


We Happy Few

by MurderBaby



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Ninja Warrior - Freeform, Both Killua and Gon were previously with other partners who died, Closeted Character, F/M, Gymnastics, In case you're wondering how hard this story is to explain, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Other, Semi-explicit sex, Well - Freeform, Widow AU, Widowed, so uh, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:36:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderBaby/pseuds/MurderBaby
Summary: Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.This story shall the good man teach his son;And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,From this day to the ending of the world,But we in it shall be rememberèd—We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;For he to-day that sheds his blood with meShall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,This day shall gentle his condition;- Henry V, in Act IV Scene iii 18–67Killua Zoldyck's life ended when his fiance died after a long and painful sickness. He did not expect it to begin again in the musty basement of a church rectory, alongside fellow widower Gon Freecs.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on tumblr. It's not finished, par for the Murder Baby course, right? I do want to finish it, though, so maybe starting up a posting schedule will encourage me!
> 
> If nothing else, it's easier to reread this way, that's for sure. 
> 
> Expect a few chapters a week for the next few weeks.
> 
> Widow AU, ahoy.
> 
> "Wait, what?!"

"Um, hi. My name is Killua."

"Hi, Killua!" echoed back the crowd, cheery Stepford Wives style.

"And, um," Killua said. He entwined his fingers, and rested them on his calf, his foot balanced precariously on his knee. "She died about 6 weeks ago."

"Awww," chorused the crowd of Stepford Widows.

He'd dreaded it, but it still forced his foot off his knee as he jerked upright.

The thin, bespectacled women with sensible shoes and proudly gray, spiked, short hair who described herself earlier as the "facilitator and travel companion" smiled at him in exactly that way he'd wanted never to see again.

"Do you mind sharing your wife's first name with us, Killua?"

"She is not my wife," Killua said. His voice was brittle, and he'd hoped when he spoke it would drop into a million, razor-sharp shards. The concerned looks, and hems and haws, came next. He actually wanted to roll his eyes.

"She was my fiance," Killua said. The murmurs lifted in volume that the room of 12 or so sounded like a congregation raising its voice in fervent prayer.

The woman to his right, a short, middle aged woman with olive skin, and a neat, stiff bob of graying dark brown hair, reached towards him, patting his arm softly and awkwardly.

"You never even got to enjoy having a wife, dear," said his assailant, the slight lilt of her accent stretching her vowels hypnotically.

"Uh, yeah," Killua replied. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Sensing the moment moving away from her control, the bespectacled journeyer cleared her throat, and reached for the copy of stapled xeroxes on the floor by her feet.

A shaft of cosmically stage directed light pierced the space vacated by the facilitator spiked head of hair. With a rush of wind and snow from outside, the door to the church's rectory flew open. Into the shaft of light, wintry mix swirling around a head of hair styled almost precisely like that of a paintbrush, walked a tall, smiling, tanned face. Two rows of shining white teeth flashed below narrowed eyes and a creased forehead.

"Sorry I'm late, everyone!"

"Gon!"

"I was afraid you weren't going to come."

"Here, there's a seat next to me, Gon!"

He responded to everyone and no one with a wave, and some wordless affirmation.

Killua realized he was staring when Gon locked eyes with him. Gon's eyes popped open a little wider, and the smile shut tight, just for a brief moment. Killua quickly faked a cough, and bent his head into his elbow, Dracula style, while Gon slid between two smiling, fawning women, and pulled up one of the spare stackable plastic chairs.

"We have a new member?" Gon asked, tone friendly but politely reverent, before the facilitator could try to wrangle the group back into order.

"Oh, yes, Gon, this is Killua. It's his first meeting," she said, gesturing solemnly in Killua's general direction. Her lips frowned, but her tone and eyes sparkled as she spoke. "His fiance died only six weeks ago."

"I'm so sorry," Gon said.

And, he actually was.

"It's okay," Killua mumbled, reflexively.

The corner of the facilitator's lips curled up, but she wasn't smiling.

"Now, now, there's no need to downplay what you're going through. Not here."

This was a space of honesty, and openness.

The group settled into their seats. A sense of anticipation, and also relief, filled the room. Killua leaned back over the back of his seat until his spine curved into an S.

You can feel welcome to share, here. Really share.

Eventually, a packet of tissues would be pulled from a purse.

The stories would start like greeting cards, sweeping and empty.

But, actually, death was frighteningly mundane.

The woman across from him twisted her Kleenex in her hand as she described how she decided gray was a better color than brown to dress her dead husband in when she buried him. Later, she donated all of his clothing, except for the other gray pair of pants.

"I keep it hanging in my closet. I don't touch it, but I know it's there."

Nods, soft as a cat's footfalls. Her soft sniffles were a screeching feral beast in the night. Running wild and unexpected by their feet.

Killua crossed and uncrossed his feet, and then his knees. He rested his palms on his knees, and then folded his arms again. Nothing was comfortable, which was nothing new, but every shift might as well have been an alarm blaring everyone around him to attention.

The woman Killua had to twist his neck far to the left to see gave a small chuckle, and then covered her mouth. She shook her head. Her husband died after a fight, when she'd stormed out of the front door, still shaking from the argument. There'd been no signs, and when she returned he was dead on the floor of their kitchen.

"I'm still so mad at him," she said, tears pouring down her cheeks. The silence of a crowd of polite women in emotional agony at a loss for how to respond inspired a wave of painful hiccups. The facilitator eventually held up her hand, ready to symbolically pass the baton.

"Can I have a turn, June?"

The latecomer, the only other man in the room, who until now had been placed very carefully just outside the boundary of Killua's gaze, lifted his hand. The facilitator June's sails had the wind knocked out of them, but she read the room just like Killua did. Everyone else was on the edge of their seats. Everyone had been waiting for this.

"Yes, Gon, please go ahead."

Gon nodded politely. He then said nothing for a moment. He rested his forearms on his knees.

"Retz was horribly allergic to dogs, so the day after she died I brought home a dog."

He smiled when he said her name. Retz. He smiled so big and so wide that Killua smiled back.

"It was a stray, and looked all beat up. It looked exactly like how I felt, basically."

He still smiled, Gon did. He sat up straight.

"I named him Kon, after my great grandpa. Yeah, after him, not after his dog or anything."

An actual laugh line, with chuckles and smiles. Killua silently scoffed. June wrinkled her brow.

"He was really sweet, but he was really, really not in good shape. I don't think he'd ever lived with a person before," Gon said. The warmth in his voice made Killua's palms sweat. Warm, but not like a crackling fire. Warm like holding your thumb above a candle flame for longer than you can stand. 

"Her family came to the house, her mom and dad and older brother. We'd known she'd die any day, so there wasn't much planning for the funeral. She and I had already done most of it. And, so, we're sitting there..."

Killua held his breath, as if he could somehow be surprised by the next part of the story. 

"And Kon takes a giant dump right in the middle of the carpet."

Retz's mom sobs louder, her dad storms out in anger, and his brother, who never for even one moment liked Gon, just looked at him like it was Gon himself who was actually the little steaming pile of turds. 

It wasn't just how he told it, or the details of the story. Its perfect, ironic absurdity. The made for TV contrasting tones. His face brightened like a light bulb clicked on. 

"I was bent over, on my knees, cleaning shit off my carpet, while my in-laws watched. My wife had just died in the room on the other side of the wall. It still smelled like the lotion she liked me to rub on her hands and feet."

A scent memory of citrus and lavender filled Killua's nose. Not lotion. Dryer sheets. 

"They make it smell less like death in here," she had said to Killua, in the month before she finally died. She asked him to tuck them under her pillow. 

The genuine laughter, the relieved breaking of the morbid tension, explained a great deal about why Gon had been greeted so warmly by the crowd. 

Gon's face went from bright sunshine to dusky sunset. Darkness added a gravel to his voice, as if tears were about to burst forth. The circle went quiet. 

"I had to take Kon to the pound the next day. I realized I couldn't take care of him. It was a mistake to bring him home."

The stuffy heat of the rectory's basement smelled like years of stale, moldering carpet, and suddenly Killua's stomach turned over inside of him like a capsized boat. He heard sympathetic murmurs, as Gon looked down at the floor between his feet. No one said anything, and Killua thought he was losing his mind. When he couldn't keep the angry words inside, he was as surprised as anyone.

"You took the dog to the pound? That fucking sucks, dude. It's not the dog's fault your wife died, and you were too lazy to take care of it." 

All he heard was the rattle and hiss of the baseboard radiators turning on. A gentle swish of hot water through pipes might have just been his blood in his ears. No one looked at anyone else, except through a sideways glance. 

As if she'd been waiting for just this cue, June suddenly piped up.

"This is a non-judgmental, safe space, so if you can't respect our group norms, you can...."

It was Gon who interrupted her with an audible shake of his head.

"Mm-mmm, no, I agree with him. He's absolutely right."

When Killua turned his head to see Gon's face, it was staring right back at him, brown eyes shamelessly level with his own. Pink bloomed on Killua's face in an uneven blush from his cheeks to his neck. 

June readied herself to say something more, and the dread was a flashpoint of vicarious embarrassment. The woman sitting next to Killua raised her small hand to point towards the clock behind her head.

"June, dear, I think it's break time."

Another release of desperately held tension squeaked out of the room as chairs were pushed back and sighs released, as June nodded and said they should come back in 10 minutes for reflection and closing thoughts.

It shouldn't have taken as long as it did for Killua to push back his chair, stand up, and walk towards the entrance, but his knees were weak and his fingers shook as he pulled the pack of cigarettes and lighter out of his pockets. He used his elbow to push open the door. A blast of icy, snowy wind slapped him in the face, and he couldn't have been more grateful. 

There was a "No smoking within 15 feet" sign he considered desecrating with his first drag, but he sighed, and instead shuffled over around the corner of the building, away from the security light. 

Nicotine and a chemically induced moment of calm filled Killua's lungs. He started smoking again after she died. She helped him quit. They did it together, actually, when she'd gotten sick. She only ever did it when she drank, or after sex, but still. 

The first thing he did after she died was walk across the street to buy a pack of cigarettes. Doom himself to an early death, then, rather than doom a puppy. 

"Hey!"

It was like Gon had absorbed the light from the room and then the security light, and brought it with him, a human glow star like the one's kids press to their ceiling. Killua said nothing as he ashed his cigarette.

"Do you mind?" Gon asked, stepping close enough to Killua to be heard over the rushing wind. 

Killua pushed his eyebrows together in disbelief. "Are you bumming a cigarette?" 

Gon shook his head in an exaggerated way, like a toddler would. 

"Oh, no, I don't smoke."

Killua took another drag, and quirked one eyebrow up.

"Then what are you doing out here?"

Gon stood casually at ease, with his hands in his pockets. 

"Just enjoying some fresh air."

Gon's hair stood upright on his head, spiked with some industrial strength product, and even that waved in the powerful, chilly wind. 

"Alright," Killua said. They stood next to each other in an oddly comfortable silence, both staring off into the dark parking lot in front of them. 

A question occured to Killua as he dropped his cigarette to the asphalt, too cold to finish it.

"How old are you?"

Gon smiled as he replied. 

"24."

Killua's eyes went wide. 

"Same age as me, then." 

Gon's eyes, still big and shiny in the darkness, narrowed. 

"Youngest ones here, probably, huh?"

Killua shrugged one shoulder.

"Figured you'd know, you seem like an old hat here by now."

Gon turned toward Killua.

"I've been going for a while. My wife died a year ago."

Killua looked down at his shoes. Flimsy canvas tennis shoes that were no match for winter, but all he could bring himself to bother to wear. 

"I'm sorry. I know how much you loved her."

Gon didn't say anything, and even now, Killua found the silence surprisingly soothing. Gon took a deep breath.

"Thanks for what you said in there. I feel shitty about Kon every day. It wasn't fair, he was just a puppy."

"No, it wasn't fair," Killua said. "What part of any of this is fair?"

It was Gon's turn to shrug. 

"I don't know."

The time passed for only a minute more, at the most, but Killua wished, stupidly, it could have been longer. His nose started to sting, though, so he gestured with a jerk of his head back towards the door.

"6 weeks is brutal, Killua," Gon said, instead of moving. "I'm sorry. To lose someone you loved."

Reflexes already bone deep after just a month and a half snapped Killua to attention. He almost did a little bow, before stopping himself.

"Thank you for your concern."

Then he turned, and walked towards the door, not looking behind him as he heard Gon walk quickly to keep up.


	2. Chapter 2

He was going for Alluka. She had come over for their new ritual of watching those shitty teen soap operas that they show in the evening, and eating Thai food straight from the containers. Her legs were slung over his lap, as she chowed down, and he sat with his cup of tom yum barely touched on the coffee table.

It was a patented baby sister move, that sigh, like her big brother couldn't possibly be more infuriatingly simple. 

Like her 20 years had afforded her twice or three times as much experience as his measly 24.

(And recent widowhood, which reminded him every day that he was very, very old, and he was going to die, so who gives a fuck, anyway?)

"Look, I picked this up at school today," Alluka said, setting her empty container down on the floor, and stretching over to reach her school bag. She might officially be taller than him now, which is why he insisted on standing as far away from her at all times. He resisted desperately the urge to tickle her exposed tummy.

"I don't know why this was at a college counseling office, but here," she said, item in hand, which she then hucked at his head. It was exactly what he assumed it would be. A cheaply printed, tri-fold brochure for a support group.   
He'd gotten a dozen of these already from the hospice nurses, the hospital, hell, even the crematorium.

"I'm not going to sit in a circle so other people can jerk off to my tears, Alluka," Killua said, dropping the brochure unread on the pile of unopened mail and flyers that piled precariously on the coffee table next to his food.

"I don't think other people whose wives and husbands have died are gonna jerk off to you being sad just like they are, you crude butt," Alluka said, kicking him gently as she rearranged herself. "I attend group therapy, and it's awesome."

Killua leaned his head back until it rested on the couch. He couldn't bear another second of watching 30 year olds pretending to be awkward high schoolers.

"Yeah, but like, you're wise beyond your years, and shit. You have it all figured out. You could probably be a therapist at this point."

Alluka sighed with exasperation, but he knew she was pleased by the compliment.

"I can't therapy my own brother, that's against the law, or something. Just, come on, please? Go to at least one meeting, for me. If you do, I'll owe you big time."

Killua snickered.

"What in the world will my sister getting her bachelor's in queer studies, with a minor in French Literature, have to offer me?"

"You butt!" she said, kicking him not so gently this time. "I'll clean this rat's nest of an apartment. Do your laundry. Whole nine yards. Sound good?"

She probably would have done it anyway, in another week or so, like she had for the last year and a half. Killua certainly didn't need to point it out. He closed his eyes.

"Deal. Can we also make a deal that we restrict it to one CW show a night, please?"

Alluka rolled her eyes, he swore he could hear the eyelash extensions brush against each other like running a hair brush over the surface of a counter.

"Fine," she agreed. She flipped the channel to one of those running, jumping, climbing, falling in the pool athletic shows Killua couldn't get enough of. He whipped his head forward, and cheered.

"Oh yeah, this is the good shit. Thanks, Alluka."

He was so caught up in the show that he missed Alluka scooting closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I love you, Killua."

Killua leaned his head over hers, and hugged her with one arm. He hissed out his answer.

"You too, cutie."

\----

He went to the group, much to Alluka's delight and surprise. She did more than good on cleaning up his apartment. She made dinner, and let him pick every show that Friday night. She organized his bills by order of how soon they'd be sent to collections, and even helped him just set a few of them up to auto-pay online.

"You're an old man," Alluka complained. He shrugged. He was set to be partner at his law firm in about 3 years, at this rate, so it wasn't really a high priority for him to ever figure any of this shit out.

"You're just a nerd."

He did her one better.

He went back the next week.

"Seriously?!" Alluka screeched at him, when he called her to tell her that he was heading over there after work. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Yeah, it beats staring at the ceiling while I don't sleep," Killua admitted. 

It didn't occur to him to explain what had really drawn him back. 

\---- 

"This week, we're going to take an opportunity to think about the other people in our lives. Grief isn't just about the individual we've lost, but the network of people they have left behind, that we are often left behind with."

June introduced the topic, handed out the worksheets, and paired everyone off. 

Did Killua save Gon a seat, or did Gon simply show up early enough to make sure he could grab the open seat next to Killua? Neither asked, and neither knew. 

"Both of you can take this opportunity to express gratitude toward someone in your life who has been present for you in your recovery," June explained, standing next to the little white board she'd pulled out of the corner, writing the words "GRATEFUL" in big, rounded green letters. Below it, she wrote, with more angles, in red, the word "CONFRONT." 

"I would also like to give you the opportunity to say something honest to someone in your life that you have not felt free to say before. How they've let you down, or something they've misunderstood," June said. She thought for a moment, and then, in a rush, continued. "But, please, keep your language appropriate for polite company."

Soft titters and snickers floated by after June's panicked addendum. 

As she said that, Gon and Killua looked at each other, and when their eyes met something passed between them.

"Let's skip that second one," Killua said. Gon nodded. 

"Agreed."

They pointed their chairs at each other. Gon sat calmly with still legs, and Killua bounced his knees until he eventually pulled them up until he was balanced cross legged on the edge of his chair. 

"Do you want to go first?" Gon asked. Killua still didn't know how to categorize Gon, the way he managed to categorize almost everyone in his life. His clothing were plain, and unfashionable, but somehow still flattering. He wore them confidently, his green cargo khakis, heavy work boots, and bright, neon green tee shirt. A working man's coat, with that little orange logo, and buckskin coloring. Killua stared, lost in his observations, until Gon tipped his head down, to meet Killua's eyes.

"Killua?"

Killua jerked his head up. 

"Gon, what do you do for a living?"

Gon blinked. 

"Oh, uh, right now I'm kind of between jobs. My family runs a bar back in our hometown, so I go back home every weekend to help out. I do a few shifts tending bar around town here, too."

Killua nodded. Many small, farming communities surrounded the large metropolitan area they lived in. A corn-fed, hometown golden boy suited Gon's look perfectly. 

"I'm saving money right now, I guess." 

"For what?" 

Gon shifted his weight, which was notable, because Gon was one of the most poised young men Killua had ever met. He dropped Killua's gaze. He grimaced.

"It's gonna sound ridiculous."

Killua shook his head. "I'm pretty ridiculous, actually. Try me." 

"You know the book 'Around The World in 80 Days?'"

"I mean, I've never read it, but..."

Gon leaned forward in his seat. His knees brushed against Killua's feet, they were so close. 

"I want to do that. Well, you know, not exactly like that."

Killua laughed. A thud of shame dropped into Killua's belly for his reaction, but Gon's reaction matched his. Honest, sincere laughter.

"In a balloon, and everything?"

Gon threw his head back laughing. He shook it no.

"They don't use a balloon in the book! That's just in the movies."

"Ah, okay, now it sounds totally feasible then," Killua said, with a snort. "Though I suppose jet planes are a thing now, and everything."

Any of Gon's poised composure that remained evaporated like dew in the noon time sun. 

"I've never even been on an airplane! That's the best part. I'll get to do so many new things! Go so many places," Gon said, sweeping his left hand up and around his head. "I've never even left this state."

Killua looked around, and the reality was that no one was paying any attention to them, like he worried they were. 

"Dude, that's ridiculous. You have to leave. You absolutely deserve to leave, now." 

Gon tilted his head.

"I do?"

"Of course you do! You're 24, and you're a widow," Killua said. Obviously. Densely, and embarrassingly, but Gon just nodded along seriously. "And you've never left this flyover state? If I could, I'd go with you."

"Why can't you?" Gon asked.

Killua quirked up one eyebrow. 

"Why can't I go on an interstate road trip with a guy I just met at a support group?" Killua asked. The sarcasm pooled in the crevasses of each word, but Gon responded seriously.

"Yeah. What's keeping you here?"'

Killua looked over at the white board. 

GRATEFUL.

"That person," Killua said, pointing to the white board. "The person I'm grateful for."

Gon looked at the white board, and spoke while his gaze trailed into the distance.

"Tell me about them."

Killua's lips snapped together. He could almost hear the cartoonish zipping noise. Gon turned back to look at Killua.

"That's the assignment, isn't it?"

The clock read 10 till. 10 minutes left. He looked Gon in the eyes. Two brown eyes looked back at him, placid and patient, like a cow or an old dog. Killua looked down at his legs.

"Her name is Alluka. She's my sister."

Gon said nothing. The quiet conversations all around them started to grow in volume. Killua looked up.

Gon was just watching him, smiling a little, eyes softly encouraging.

"Go on!"

Killua did. 

\---- 

"What did I talk about?" Killua mumbled as his phone sat on his belly, below the potato chip crumbs on his chest. A hollow echo in his gut responded to the words. A feeling of not giving a shit. "You, mostly."

"Me?!" Alluka responded. "It better have been good."

Dinner was potato chips and onion dip, which he'd described to Alluka as an "onion and potato dish." 

"Of course. I told him how you were the person I'm most grateful for in the world, right now."

Alluka gave a wordless chirp of pleasure. 

"So, you're only nice when I'm not around to hear it," Alluka said, but the free-floating delight in her voice made it bubbly and sweet. 

"Yep, got my reputation to maintain," Killua agreed, licking grease and salt off his fingertips. 

"Well, I'm flattered, I guess," Alluka said. A deliberate pause, before, "Hopefully you haven't just talked about me, though."

Killua groaned, and sat up.

"I also did a lot of listening, okay? It's a process." 

Alluka hummed a tune sounding the very opposite of convinced. 

"Two meetings, and you're an expert, then?"

He brushed the crumbs onto his lap as he sat up, and then onto the floor. He couldn't even bear to look down and see the state of the carpet near his couch. 

"I'll give you June's phone number, you can quiz her yourself."

"Who is June?" Alluka asked, giggling. "Your new girlfriend?"

She'd starting doing this kind of teasing immediately, once he was quote unquote single. It stung every time, even if he couldn't help but snort.

"No, not my type. About 300 years too old, and I'm pretty sure dating the lady pastor who runs the church whose basement we use."

"Ahh," Alluka said. "Well, nothing stops for true love."

Heartbeats and indigestion harmonized in his belly. He considered pressing the phone just a little to firmly to his cheek, pretending to end the phone call. 

"Killua?" Alluka asked, when the pause went on too long. "Killua, I'm sorry."

"No, no, don't," Killua said, quickly, cutting her off. "I made you promise not to do that, right? No tip toeing. Nothing out of the ordinary."

It was one of the very, very few times Killua had ever cried in front of Alluka. Before or after the death.

"No," he begged, as she dropped to her knees when she found him that morning. "No, please, don't. Don't treat me any different. I can't do this if you get weird." 

Alluka took his hand then, and said nothing. The next time she spoke, she called him a butthead, and he almost cried, again, from relief. 

She had to end the phone call anyway, so he wished her a good night. She hoped he'd actually sleep tonight, and he just laughed. 

Flopped back down on the couch, television dialed back up to full volume, Alluka's last text of the night dings through. 

"You have to talk about her next time."

Full sentences and everything in this text. Killua turned the phone off without replying, and rolled over on his belly, ready to let late night infomercials lull him into a half-conscious, dreamless doze. 

\----

"Alluka hasn't seen our parents in a few years, and that's on purpose," Killua explained to Gon, later. The group had ended, and so together they found themselves in the darkest booth of the first bar within walking distance.

The two of them couldn't stop talking. They couldn't focus on the topic of the night, they just kept catching each other's glance and grinning.

("Do you feel bad you're having as much fun as I am?" Gon asked, as they walked through the darkness, breath turning to golden fog in the light of the street lamps. Killua nodded. "Yeah, but..." And neither of them said anything more till they reached their destination.)

"How come?" Gon asked. Killua watched with more admiration than he'd ever admit as Gon made short work of his second whiskey sour. Killua was nursing a rum and coke, because he figured this wasn't the kind of bar where he could get his brightly colored true loves, like an appletini.

"When Alluka finally told my parents she is trans, they went ballistic. They pulled her out of school, sent her to a boarding school on the other side of the country. It was absolutely awful."

"Oh no," Gon said. "No wonder, then."

"So, we graduated as early as we could, and moved out here because this is where I went to school. When we were settled, we moved Alluka out of school to come over here."

Killua leaned down to slurp another sip from his drink, feeling in his legs starting to go away, and his chest starting to constrict, holding his racing heart still for just a beat longer, holding his anxiety in check.

It would have to explain the slip of his tongue. The tiny crack he could see Gon peeking through, when he looked up from his drink, Gon's lips curved on one side, far too knowing and proud.

"We? Do you mean you and your fiance?"

Killua pulled the straw out of the drink with his teeth. He spoke around the tiny tube, making the words whistle just a bit.

"Yeah, we moved in together right after high school."

Gon looked down at his own drink.

"You don't have to talk about her, you know."

Killua plucked the straw from his mouth.

"No?"

"No," Gon said. "Not if you don't want to."

It was not quite right to say that Killua did not want to.

"I'm not sure what to say," Killua said, finally, straw tossed in a slimy mess on his little, square napkin.

"You could start with her name," Gon suggested. "Because I don't think you've ever said it."

No, he hadn't.

"Fumiko."

"That's pretty," Gon said. Killua nodded. 

"I always called her Fumi. Ko means 'kid' in Japanese. She said she hated being called a kid, even when we were still in grade school."

"Wow," Gon said. Whatever Gon was feeling was always unmistakable. The "Wow" was completely sincere, and filled with admiration. "You've known each other since you were little?"

Killua chuckled. "Is that really so impressive?" 

"Of course it is," Gon said. "You're the most loyal person I've ever met." 

The blunt certainty thumped Killua's breastbone.

"Huh?" Killua asked. "I'm what?"

Gon wrapped a thumb and forefinger around the base of his drink. He moved it with tiny, quick motions, creating a storm of clinking ice in his glass. 

"You devoted your whole life to Alluka, and to Fumi. That's just amazing." 

Killua picked the straw back up. He drove one end of it into the other hand's palm. It stung a little, but mostly it was wet and cold. 

"I don't think that anyone's ever called me loyal. The last time my brother saw him he said I was 'A blight on the family's good name.'"

"Yikes! When did he say that?" Gon asked. 

Killua did find this detail funny, actually.

"Fumiko's funeral," Killua said with a smirk. 

Funeral was an intense exaggeration of what it was. Apart from Alluka, there was no one who had attended the gathering who Killua could describe as a person he even liked. Not even his father, not anymore. 

"Oh my god," Gon said. "What did you say back?"

Killua kept smiling. 

"Can't remember, exactly, but Alluka did insist I put like 20 dollars in the swear jar afterwards."

Gon laughed, and it was only then that Killua noticed how slippery and loose Gon sounded. Killua poked Gon's drink with his tiny mangled straw. 

"You doing okay there, kid?"

Gon laughed again. In response, he lifted the glass to his mouth, and tipped it all back, ice and all. He slapped the glass back down to the table, and crunched the ice in Killua's face. 

Killua really hadn't laughed this hard in months. 

\----

One morning, Killua woke up. It was a couple minutes earlier than the alarm on his phone, and everything. He rolled off the couch, showered, and made a cup of coffee by 7:30am. A new record. 

As he decided to get a head start on his emails for the day, he saw the tiny blue box on his calendar app.

"Group Tonight."

It couldn't have been the caffeine. His heart was pounding, up his chest and into his throat. He blinked, hard, until it hurt his face. He slid his thumbnail along his lip. His breathing came so fast and shallow he worried he'd use it all up, leaving his body a bog man, dried up and consumed by it.

There was a small ping.

"Good morning! See you at group, tonight!"

He even had a picture of Gon in his phone now, taken when he finally got his phone number. 

"So I don't think you're a fucking telemarketer."

He'd forgotten that the only difference between excitement and anxiety was a smile, and butterflies in his belly. 

\----

Fumi sat up. It took three or four pillows piled behind her back to make her comfortable enough, but it beat the hacking, bilious coughs, where she expelled green and red phlegm into a handkerchief she'd embroidered herself. 

There was never a time when Fumiko wasn't learning something new. When she wasn't practicing until deep into the evening in his family's gym, Killua would watch her take up crew rowing, tap dance, cycling, and even a winter as a biathelete. 

He thought she hated guns, and she did too, she said, "Until I shot one, and the recoil punched me right in the fucking arm!"

It was the challenge that made it fun for her. He never understood, not ever.

Especially not at the end.

She told him to buy it. She pointed to it with her small finger at the tablet perched on his lap. 

"This?! Seriously?!"

She nodded, seriously.

A joke book. Well, not a joke book. Not ha-ha jokes. A book about stand up comedy.

"There's an open mic just down the street. Imagine what a phenomenon a lady with no hair, in a wheelchair, would be up there! I'd go viral."

She would always make him laugh. He told her so.

"Exactly, and you're such a humorless know-it-all," she said, soft and fond. He could only laugh, and leave the room quickly to hide in the bathroom so he could take deep breaths, and choke back treacherous tears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from chapters 3 and 4 on tumblr, but 3 was too short and kinda stunted so I combined them. A peak behind the curtain ;)

June stood at the front this time, brandishing a marker in her hand like it was a pistol, pointing it at the crowd more than using it to write on the board.

But, eventually, she made her designs known.

"Grief is not a cycle. It's not 5 easy steps like we all learn. It's not denial, sadness, anger, bargaining, acceptance, in that order, and then we're all done."

She swirled the marker along the board, going up and down and around, making loop de loops. She slowed her marker down to make sure the two ends of the squiggles touched each other.

"What do you notice about this?" June asked the crowd.

"It's confusing?" one woman said. June looked miffed, her forehead wrinkling, but she gave it a minute to settle in her mind.

"Oh, yes, it is. Grief can definitely be confusing!"

Gon's long arm shot up. He looked earnest and proud, like a third grader who finally memorized the multiplication tables.

June smiled a rare smile.

"Yes, Gon?"

Gon set his arm down.

"It never ends."

Old buildings stop smelling like wood and glue and carpet and off gassing, and eventually start to smell like memories. Potlucks, and the smell of children running over in the middle of the service to eat dollar store cookies and drink 7-Up out of Styrofoam cups sinks into the floors. The smell of bibles, which always smell like musty basements and secrets, pressed in on Killua from all sides.

Silence was productive, Alluka had told him once. Silence is where "the work," happens.

Killua looked at Gon. The bullshit about work never made much sense to Killua, but Gon was definitely working right now. The room was stuffy, and every week someone would cry. It was dark, always dark, because it was winter, and because it was after work.

And, beside him, Gon flickered and flashed. His eyes never broke from looking straight at the board at the front. There was a rotating spotlight inside of him. It was the siren on top of a cop car. It was headlights blinding him, Killua caught dead center in its sights.

"That's right," June said. "Grief isn't just a loss. It isn't a broken window you can replace. It's a life that is forever changed."

Killua gulped in a breath as quickly as he could, and that was his first mistake. His heart raced. It smelled so bad in here, and all of a sudden everyone was looking at him. He breathed quicker, even if that meant each breath was a little shorter, and a little shallower.

"There will be ups and downs," June continued. Killua gripped his knees, and dug his fingernails into the flimsy fabric of his trousers. "It will soften and harden, in turns."

June started writing on the board next.

"I know I said that this model was passe, but some of these stages are still very useful to examine."

Denial. Anger. Bargaining, Depression. Acceptance.

"They can come, and go, in any order."

The dizziness pulled at his head, he worried it was going to lift up and away like a helium balloon.

"And sometimes, they can happen in pairs, or even, all at once."

Maybe it was night after night of terrible sleep. Sometimes from late nights of rifling through pages of documents at the firm, sometimes because sleep meant dreams, and dreams meant her face, smiling at him, in love with him.

"Naming these emotions can help, but they can also trap us with expectations."

Killua closed his eyes.

"Hey?"

He'd closed his eyes, but it was still so bright in the fluorescent lit room that everything looked like dark, congealed blood.

"Killua?"

His drooping chin shot towards the ceiling as a soft tap on his shoulder startled him back to reality.

Gon looked at him, and he was still doing work. He frowned at Killua. He pointed at the door.

Killua stared back, dumbly, with an expression frozen to his face.

Gon wrapped his thumb and forefinger around Killua's wrist. Gon gave Killua a minute to understand the gesture.

Those fingers scuffed softly against Killua's skin, like the rough strands of a cheap souvenir bracelet from some shore side gift shop. He remembered wearing them a long time ago, before Fumi got sick.

"Let's get a breath of fresh air?" Gon said. He stood, and Killua stood, too. He wasn't pulled upright. The proximity to Gon's warmth, and the callouses on his hand, jolted him like an electrical charge.

Probably everyone was staring at them, but all Killua could see or feel was Gon's gaze, as Gon gently guided Killua ahead of him. Gon's hand brushed Killua's lower back. Gon's hand dropped away, but Gon watched Killua from behind, and it steadied him. Helped him take deeper, more certain breaths.

They pushed out into the parking lot, and wandered to their now familiar spot, around the corner, with a pristine view of dumpsters and unlit tail lights.

"Would smoking help?" Gon asked. Killua looked down at his shoes.

"I thought you hated that I smoked."

Gon's chuckled floated towards Killua like it had come from some distant loudspeaker.

"I definitely do, but also I know it helps with stuff like this."

Killua reached into his pocket. He pulled out the cigarette, and the lighter. He looked at them.

"I hate it, too, you know," Killua said.

It must have been about then they both realized they'd left their coats behind. Gon smiled, though, even as he shuffled in place, and started to rub his bare arms with his hands.

"Oh yeah?"

Killua nodded.

"Fumi and I had managed to quit, but then she got sick, and then she..."

Without saying anything, Gon plucked Killua's lighter from his hand. He waved it a little. Killua reflexively placed the cigarette between his lips. Gon deftly lit it for him, before waving the lighter out, and placing it back in Killua's other hand.

"Wow," Killua said, resting his fore and middle finger around the cigarette. "You're no amateur."

Gon laughed.

"Nope."

They stood silently, with only the huff of their freezing breath and the shuffling of chilly feet and arms.

"Fuck, it's cold," Gon finally said. Killua laughed.

"We should head back inside, I guess."

Gon nodded. He didn't move, though. He stopped shuffling. He was just a little bit shorter than Killua, but it was times like these when Killua had to tilt his head back, to take in the full picture. To see the broad shoulders and clenched fists and steady stance.

"Can I show you something?"

It was so cold, but Killua would have stood here as long as he'd needed to to hear why. He nodded.

"Tomorrow night, when you're done with work. My place?"

Killua nodded again. Gon smiled. It was such a big smile Gon's eyes almost closed. He had ridiculously, unbelievably perfect, white teeth.

"Awesome!"

Killua took a final drag, and stubbed out the cigarette on the wall before putting it back in his pocket.

"Hope you're not a serial killer," Killua said, as they headed back towards the door.

Gon giggled. "Yeah, me too!"

Killua realized later, on his drive home, that he wasn't sure if Gon meant Killua, or himself.

\---- 

"You're joking."

Gon walked forward, and reached up. In his hand was a thick, tightly coiled rope. A small platform hung from it. With a deep inhale, and a short shout of exertion, Gon pulled himself up hand over fist, until he'd reached the top of the rope. It was at least 20 feet in the air.

"I don't think so?" Gon said, with a shout, from high over Killua's head.

Gon had said "My place!" so Killua naturally assumed it was Gon's home. But it wasn't, as Killua quickly realized when he'd pulled his car into a dark, deserted alley gone dusky gold in the early winter sunset. It was a warehouse district, and all around were buildings empty or underused, tall and hollow on the inside. Right on cue, he saw Gon wave at him from a small door on the long end of one of the buildings, positioned right off the nearest alley.

"Killua! You came!" Gon said, surprised, and delighted. Killua stepped out of his car, and it was fucking freezing today, the first really bitter cold day.

Gon stepped out from behind the door. He was, hand to heart, shirtless. No shoes. No socks. Just tightly fitting athletic shorts.

"Are you fucking with me, Gon?!" Killua shouted.

Inside, Killua worried he'd stepped back in time, in the worst, most stomach bottoming way. Naked on test day, with all his teeth falling out of his head, cackling teacher and jeering classmates pointed at him in the worst kind of nightmares he used to have when he was still young.

Gon swung one arm around his head, sending himself penduluming on the rope. "No! This is what I wanted to show you!"

It was a gym, furnished towards some indiscernible end. Lots of the elements were unfamiliar to Killua. Walls and nets of rope were strung up, as well as things that looked like a jungle gym, but for the biggest kid in the world.

But, even so, memories of the tumbling mats, the hanging rings, the heavy medicine balls, the chalk, and the smell of daily, strenuous practice were like a homecoming for KIllua. 

As quickly as Gon had climbed, he shimmied back down the rope. His two feet slammed into the ground, and he huffed out a breath.

Even though Gon had been half-naked before, it was only now that he was really on display, with a sheen of perspiration and the bright ceiling lamps pouring a day's worth of light over them both.

Gon's smile was a little bashful, and a little boastful, all at once.

"I built this place. It's where I've been spending all my free time since Retz died."

Killua's mouth went dry.

Even bundled up for winter, it was clear was a strong, fit guy. A bit shorter than Killua, but sturdy all over. However, standing in this space Killua pictured the man dragging and hauling everything in the huge space with his own two arms, muscles straining and gleaming, pulling his shirt up to wipe sweat from his face.

Gon didn't just look like a strong, athletic man, but a fit, functional and practiced figure. He could have been mistaken for a professional athlete without a second guess.

Breathing requires effort, so speaking required intense concentration, suddenly.

"Why did you have me come?" Killua croaked out.

Gon swung his arms around, a little, like a restless child. He ended up resting them behind his back, fingers winding together.

"I just think you really remind me of me, Killua," Gon said. "I mean, I'm not a brilliant, handsome big time lawyer man, like you..."

Killua jumped like he'd just been shocked with a live wire. He tried to muster a response, but the only sounds he could force from his suddenly flushed and hot face was a wordless bark.

Gon whipped his hand around his front, and waved them. He looked a little mortified at himself.

"Oh, hey, I'm sorry! I just...I just mean...." Gon said.

"Gon, how are you able to just say the stuff you say?" Killua said, over the top of Gon's words.

They saw each other, Gon in a panic and Killua nearly hyperventilating, and suddenly all they knew was the joy of each other's company.

They laughed in unison, until it echoed off the high walls. The big, weird space became welcoming and comfortable.

"I just mean," Gon said, as he pressed both of his hands to his sides. "I just mean, at first, after she died."

Killua gulped down the name "Retz," which he mouthed to himself silently.

"At first," Gon continued, "I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. I was just waking up, working, going home. That's it. But, just, I knew she would be so disappointed in me for that."

Killua didn't understand, actually, but he nodded.

"She would want me to be happy, I think," Gon said, quietly. Gon didn't sound sure, but Killua suddenly was.

"You do deserve to be happy, Gon," Killua said, stupidly, uselessly. Gon smiled a little.

"So, anyway, that's when I thought about my dream. You know? I want to see the world."

Killua nodded. "Yeah?"

Gon pointed at all of the training apparatuses around them.

"I don't want to see it from a car, you know? I want to really see it. Head first and hands on."

"That makes sense to me," Killua said, looking around. He had traveled, a lot, in his life. It was rarely for pleasure, but he could remember pleasurable moments during those long ago trips. "So, are you planning to go, like, climb a mountain?"

At their feet were two big, heavy medicine balls. Gon leaned over, and picked one up. With one hand, too, which Killua knew was no mean feet. 

Very big, very strong hands. 

"Maybe! I'd love to do that. Or cross a desert, or explore the jungle." 

Killua nodded. He watched Gon's hands artfully and gracefully manipulate the dense, heavy sphere. He didn't spin it on the tip of his finger like a basketball, but it wouldn't have surprised Killua to watch him do just that. 

"Are you saving up now, or something?"

Gon tossed the ball up in the air, and caught it. The ball passed between Killua's gaze and Gon's face, and it could have just been a trick of the light to see Gon's bronzed eyes tarnish with sadness. 

"Yeah, something like that," Gon admitted, quietly. He tossed the ball, and then caught it, definitively. 

The bronze of his eyes was burnished and bright again as he looked directly at Killua. He lifted his eyebrows before nodding at the ball. 

An invitation.

Killua grinned. He unbuttoned his peacoat. It fell to his feet. He squared his hips, and opened both of his hands. 

Gon bit his lip, like he was locking a gate closed behind him. He cupped the ball with two loose hands. He tossed it in a very slow arc toward's Killua's chest. 

It was an easy catch. A little too easy. Killua didn't say that, but he did toss the ball back, with a quick snap of his wrists and hands. 

The catch made Gon grunt with exertion. He blinked and breathed deep, before bending his elbows to bring the ball close to his chest. 

"Alright then!" Gon said, as he launched his missile. 

The ball flew and Killua caught it, and it hurt, a bruise was probably gonna show on the pale skin of his breastbone. 

"Yeah, fine, alright then!" Killua shouted back. 

The lobbed the ball back and forth. The speed increased until it hurt, every time, to catch it, but it didn't stop Gon from hooting or Killua from laughing like he'd been possessed. 

Distracted by his own laughter, Killua fumbled the catch, just barely avoiding jamming his finger beyond repair as the ball jumped from his hands. It landed to the mat on the floor with a dense thud. 

"Oh my God," was all Gon said, finally, as he bent over to grab his knees.

"What the fuck, Gon?" Killua asked, ecstatic and nowhere close to disapproving. 

"I had a feeling you could do it, is all," Gon explained. 

Killua reached up to loosen his tie, sweat and heat making the silk cling like choking fingers. 

"Why?"

Gon stood up. "I dunno! You tell me why you're so strong."

Touche. Killua worked his front teeth over his bottom lip. He pulled the tie off over his head. 

They'd caught his eye the moment he'd walked in the door. Rings hanging from a tall, sturdy cross bar. He made fists with his palms. They were so soft now. He tried to picture his father's response to his hands, now.

"Soft. Weak. Feminine."

Unspoken, "Worthless."

He could imagine Fumi's gagging facial expression behind his father's back, too, as his father said such a thing. Killua bit his cheek at the memory, as he tried not to laugh, even now. 

"Hmm, well," Killua said. "Maybe this will explain it?" He trotted across the space, pulling his tie over his head, and unbuttoning his shirt. He looked back over his shoulder to see Gon following behind, eyes wide and wondering. He pulled his shirt off, and kicked off his shoes. That left him in his slacks, and undershirt.

He should probably ditch the trousers, if he really wanted to do this, but Gon's eyes stopped his hand. He shook his head, instead, and rolled his shoulders.

Gon was watching him, he was certain, and he didn't have to look back behind himself to see it. 

There was no way to know how old this reclaimed set of rings was, or what kind of repair they were in, but Killua might as well have been drunk. His stomach sloshed like he'd just done three vodka shots. The old, familiar rush of being watched while his toes dug into the mat, and his fingers curled back in forth until they were limber kept him moving. 

He walked between them, and jumped up, hoping desperately that he'd grab them in one go. Gravity's tug on his dangling body meant he'd succeeded. One deep, long breath, and he began to lift himself, his entire body, with just his arms and muscles and years of practice. 

Oh, but he was profoundly, pitifully out of practice. Each lift took twice as long as it should. Spins were inelegant, legs flying over his head with nowhere near enough control. He could feel his legs and arms flail out of alignment, every inch points ticked off by impatient, ancient men who resented their own now flimsy, ancient bodies. Every beat of rest forced him to suck air into his lungs like his lungs were the bags of a vacuum cleaner. 

The counts in his head reminded him when to stop, even though the blood his brain swam in simmered, his vision clouding over like a foggy window. 

He didn't mean to land, when he slipped and missed a ring. He collapsed to the mat, back first, cursing and unable to stand.

"Killua!"

The concern in Gon's voice made Killua wish he'd just disappear straight through the mat into the frozen ground far beneath. 

"Killua, that was..." Gon started, his broad and tan face suddenly appearing above Killua's head. Killua closed his eyes suddenly. 

"That was fucking embarrassing, Gon, don't remind me."

Killua peeked his eyes open. He was offered a gently unfolded hand at the end of a long, strong arm. 

"Killua, what are you talking about?!" Gon said. Killua blinked, deja vu and the exertion making his head spin.

The look of admiration. The genuine, unquestioned, sincere look. Killua immediately took Gon's hand. Gon pulled him up. 

"Killua, you're absolutely amazing! I don't think I've ever seen something so cool in person!"

The words were different, but the flush of pride, and the roar in his ears, was the same. 

They were not the same person, but Killua worried for a moment, just a brief one, that this was another dream. In it, Fumi’s ghost decided to change shape and visit him in a moment of quiet weakness just to tease him.


	4. Chapter 4

Gon met his future wife when they were both 11 years old. 

Gon's small town swallowed newcomers whole. They were either digested whole, made part of the town's organism, or spat out like refuse. 

Retz and her family did not fit in, and everyone knew it. 

"Aunt Mito told me once," Gon said, legs splayed in front of them as he and Killua sat on the gym floor, mats barely sufficient to keep their asses from freezing on the cold concrete. "She told me that people need something besides food to eat. People get full when their life is satisfying. Our town was small, and getting smaller every year. There was no industry there, anymore, and all people had to do with their time was survive, and talk about each other."

With a single father, a brother with a criminal record, and a tiny, poorly behaved little girl in Retz's family, there was plenty to talk about. 

"Mito heard everything, you know? She ran a bar on main street my whole childhood."

Killua had a question that chewed at him, leaving his brain rubbed raw from the effort of not interrupting. 

"People had all these theories about them. Why they were here, a single dad with no job, and two poorly dressed, poorly fed kids."

"Did you ever find out?"

Gon criss-crossed his legs. He took an audible breath.

"Yeah."

Retz's mom had died, not very long after Retz herself was born.

"It was some genetic thing. Retz inherited the same disease."

Killua rested his chin on his knees. He wound this fingers together around his shin. He didn't know what to say. Gon didn't wait to hear it, either. 

"I became Retz friend later, when we were both older. Mito insisted I finally get serious about, well, something. So, I tried out for the football team." 

A strip of film rolled through Killua's mind, like it was from his own memories. A younger version of the man in front of him. Shorter, a little awkward, with that bright, indelible smile. Growing into his shoulder pads. Hopping between lines of tires, or running as fast as possible to ram into one of those vaguely humanoid stand ups. Hiking up and down a field as crowds cheer and lights flared above head. 

Killua lifted one eyebrow. 

"And?"

Gon made a fist, and bounced it against his knee. "Well, I made it on Varsity my sophomore year, which wasn't too bad. I got to be a starting running back Junior and Senior year." 

Killua nodded. 

"Was Retz a cheerleader or something?"

"Oh!" Gon said, surprised. "Oh, gosh, no! I don't think Retz ever even wore a dress except our wedding!" 

Killua leaned back onto his hands. He pointed both of his feet until the tops of his legs were perfectly straight lines. 

"You just made it sound like football was how you two met."

"Well, it was," Gon said. "Retz tried out for the team the same time I did!"

Killua laughed, but Gon didn't. He furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"What's so funny?"

Immediately, Killua clamped his mouth shut. Suddenly sheepish, Killua shook his head. 

"Um, I guess nothing, it's just...she didn't make it did she?"

"Of course she did!" Gon said. 

She didn't just make it, it was big news. Made it to the state-wide paper, and everything. Gon pulled a carefully folded and refolded article from his wallet. 

Retz didn't look anything like what Killua had pictured, with her shoulder pads and ponytail. Which stood to reason, because Killua realized he had nothing specific pictured for Retz. It actually, he realized, was probably intentional. She had stayed a shadow in his mind. 

Even now, taking in her round face, wide shoulders and hips, and toothy, infectious grin, Killua wished he didn't have to see this. Didn't have to picture the love of Gon's life. 

"Her dad was so proud, and her step-mom looked like she'd eaten an entire lemon, whole," Gon said, as Killua passed him back the slip of newsprint. Handling it as gently as if it were ancient reliquary, Gon returned his beloved to its safe home. 

"I mean, she never got to play in any important games, or first string, but she really was amazing. Big and strong, but also had a cannon for an arm. It was really impressive." 

Killua gulped. A terrible thought automatically surfaced behind Killua's eyes. 

'You said I was impressive just a minute ago.'

It didn't take much to stuff that back down. He shifted his weight. He reached into his own pockets, though he had no treasures in there like what Gon kept safe in his. 

"You two started dating then?"

Gon sighed. 

"Something like that!"

The chill Killua had managed to ignore couldn't be ignored any longer. He shivered, and stood up.

"I probably need to get going soon, Gon. Work tomorrow, and all that," Killua said. Gon groaned a big, disappointed groan.

"Aw, okay, I guess." 

Gon stood, too. Killua gathered his discarded shirt and jacket, while Gon started turning lights off and picking up his own things. They left together, and Killua stood by shivering as Gon locked up after them. 

They walked together to Killua's car. 

"Gon?" Killua asked. 

"Yeah?"

"That was really awesome, Gon. I haven't had the chance to do anything like that in basically forever."

Gon smiled, thrilled and touched. 

"You're welcome! Anytime!"

Killua tipped his head a little.

"You don't mind if I come back?!"

"No!" Gon said, quickly. "That'd be incredible! You can show me more stuff, and I can show you what I'm working on, too, if you want."

"That'd be awesome," Killua said. 

Killua didn't move, and neither did Gon. 

"Hey, Gon?"

"Hmm?" Gon hummed. 

"You lived with your Aunt Mito, right? And your grandma?"

Gon nodded. 

"Yeah, why?"

Killua didn't need to know, not really, but if he didn't ask, he'd hear the question wear down a rut in his brain.

"Are your parents dead?"

Gon's head and body stayed unnaturally still. Killua sensed Gon not just holding back, but weighing every word very carefully. 

"My mom apparently died when I was a baby, not long after I was born," Gon said. Killua wondered if that would be the end of what Gon would tell him, but it wasn't. 

"Aunt Mito is my dad's sister. I don't know where he is." 

Enough said. Killua nodded. 

"I'll see you later, Gon?" Killua asked, after he truly couldn't put off leaving any longer.

"I'd love that, Killua," Gon said. His smile had finally returned, much to Killua's relief. 

Gon walked off into the other end of the alley. Killua turned his car on, but sat waiting for the heater to turn on. He heard the word "Love" in Gon's voice linger in his mind like brain freeze. Like a tension headache. 

It hurt, and he would be painfully disappointed when it went away.


	5. Chapter 5

The history of Killua's family could not be untangled from the history of gymnastics. It could not be separated from a storied and famous dynasty that had secured success on the world stage countless times. 

After all, Killua Zoldyck was the son of Silva and Kikyo Zoldyck. 

Silva had achieved early and remarkable fame in the sport, helping his nation win overall gold and world championships, while himself earning individual medals in any number of events. 

When Silva had finally retired from competition, it was only because he now began to work as one of the most successful coaches in history. His pupils went on to find even greater success. None was a more remarkable story than that of Kikyo Yukie, an orphan from Japan whose unprecedented rise from a life on the streets to winning gold in a record setting 4 individual events during one world championship. 

Kikyo stood on the top of the podium, tall for her age, and jaw-droppingly beautiful. She accepted the gold medal with dignity well beyond her years. She looked over at her coach, a young Silva, but a man still many years her senior. It was not missed by many of those in attendance how she looked at him. She, all of 16, him well into his mid 20s. 

To say it was, at first, a scandal, does overstate it. There was nothing to speak to. Anything that happened happened in secret. 

Kikyo turned 18, and not long after they were wed, in a small ceremony in Silva's home country. Before the year was out, Kikyo had given birth to their first son, Illumi Zoldyck. 

Killua remembered watching some of his family's old home videos. Many of them were of Silva and Kikyo at work coaching their students, and eventually, coaching their children. But, of course, in addition to videos filmed with shaky cameras held by assistant coaches, were recordings of championship and Olympic qualifier events. 

The videos were a testimony to their love. Shots of Kikyo and Silva exchanging fond looks. Silva explaining that it was his family that supported him in all of his efforts. 

There was a tiny segment of Kikyo sitting with Killua's oldest brother, who was just a small boy at the time. Sitting in Kikyo's lap, very calm and serious for his age, the anchorwoman asked Illumi if he was going to join his mommy and daddy out on the floor when he was bigger.

"Yes," Illumi said. The woman laughed. 

"Will you beat your daddy, do you think?"

Kikyo smiled behind her hand as Illumi nodded.

"Yes, I will." 

It was a puff piece. A fluffy bit of human interest that Killua watched with the same surprise and amazement that he imagined random viewers at home felt. 

What a beautiful family. What a remarkable story. The scandal and the whispers. The worried glances for a young woman taken advantage of, or a champions fall from grace, washed away with shots of them all standing proud and supportive, leaning into each other's arms. 

Soon enough, Illumi would join them on that stage, himself a remarkably storied athlete before his accident. Milluki showed no interest nor aptitude, but he would still sit with Kikyo in the stands, helping cheer everyone on.

Next in line was Killua. 

"He loves gymnastics, just like I do," Silva explained. 

Killua could remember every detail from this clip, even though he had no stomach for it, and would never rewatch it. 

He couldn't have been more than 6 or 7, but he was already performing elements with more precision and expertise than his peers. Not just great potential, already in contention for competitions both national and international. 

They had relocated to this state and city when Killua was a baby, in the hopes of better opportunities for Silva's coaching career, and scouts and coaches from all over the country came nosing around Killua's gym. 

Silva sent all of them off, Kikyo and Illumi standing by his side protective of the boy they would be raising up, on their own. 

They loved him, very much, and they assured him of it every day. 

"Killua, you are the best thing we have ever created," Kikyo told him, once.

"Killua, you will make me more proud than anything I have ever done myself," Silva said, after a long day of practice where Killua heard little besides firm, single syllable barked commands. 

"Killua, our family's destiny lies entirely with you," Illumi explained, late at night. Killua had tried to crawl out of bed, restless and sore. Illumi sent him back to bed. Killua complained, just for a moment, about how much he didn't want to practice the next day.

Illumi grabbed Killua's wrist. Illumi was very strong. 

"You are too talented to complain, little brother."

Illumi still spoke his father's tongue, and would whisper it to Killua. Killua didn't know how to speak it, but he recognized the tone. Acidic and caustic. 

"Our love is really our only secret weapon," Kikyo said, her sweet, soft voice and delicate, precise accent giving special weight to the word love. "We are a family, you know?"

That was all Killua knew, for a very long time. 

\----

It didn't start so complicated, but Killua visited Gon's gym every night that week, and then the next, practicing like he hadn't practiced in years. They would sometimes spend the whole night talking, or spend all of it in private, silent concentration. Either way, it meant Killua could finally sleep at night, and couldn't wait for the next evening to do it again. 

And, before Killua knew it, he was falling tailbone first to the floor with a spine cracking thud. The lights went out in his brain, like a brown out in the summer, and the ceiling spun. Everything that used to be so easy, like breathing or walking or going to sleep at night, was so hard again. 

"Killua!" 

Gon pounded over with his heavy feet. Killua cringed reflexively. He sat up, and stuck his hand out. 

"Look, I know that was terrible, but I'll get right back up there..."

"Huh?" Gon asked, head tilted while he rested his hands on his hips. "Why do you keep saying you're doing terrible?"

Killua craned up and over the back of his shoulder to look at Gon. Gon's steady brown eyes and tiny frown meant he really was asking, not understanding. Killua cleared his throat as he looked away from Gon towards the other side of the room. 

"Because that was absolutely terrible, Gon. My form is trash, and my strength is embarrassing."

He heard Gon trot over to face him again. He knew Gon was going to offer him a hand up, so Killua scrambled to his feet, too quickly. He felt the rush of vertigo as his balance shifted. 

Killua shouted. But he didn't fall, as one hand reached around to grab him by the waist, and the other grabbed his wrist.

"Whoa, careful!" Gon said. "You just threw yourself around, you're probably a little weak!" 

"Jesus," Killua said, pushing Gon away. His cheeks and forearms were burning. Shame and something else even more uncomfortable rose out of his belly. "See? I told you how embarrassing I am."

It wasn't clear if Gon was a little embarrassed himself, being pushed away, or annoyed for some other reason, but Gon's frown had grown bigger. There was no reply, though, and Killua was free to now stomp off to the bench to grab his water and sulk a little. 

Despite his incredibly poor showing, though, Killua's blood pounded against the inside of his skin. He had to remember to breath, so he wouldn't get a pinching cramp in his side. He was horribly out of practice, but remembering the routines, the tricks and spins, woke something up. He watched Gon watch him, for just a moment. 

It was like Gon had grabbed all of the blankets and sheets, and had torn them off of Killua while shouting "WAKE UP!" at the top of his lungs. 

Gon's frown dropped, and his eyes softened. He turned away from Killua, and headed towards one of his elaborate climbing structures. 

The question had been gnawing at Killua since last night's tv and Thai food get together with Alluka. 

"Hey, Gon?" Killua shouted at Gon, as he scrabbled from hand hold to hand hold, swinging his giant legs and grabbing with his giant hands. 

"Yeah?!" Gon shouted back. 

"You ever seen those ninja athletic jumping climbing shows?"

Gon twisted around while hanging from one hand. 

"Have I?!" Gon shouted. He swung himself back to the ground, and ran over to Killua's side. He knelt in front of Killua. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" Gon stage whispered. With Killua sitting and Gon basically squatting Gon was just ever so slightly lower than Killua's lips and nose. He could smell Gon's minty breath. 

Killua held his breath, and nodded. 

"I'm training for it. That's what all of this is for!"

Killua imagined for a moment pressing his fingers to Gon's cheek, glowing from exertion and the thrill of this confession. Gon must be so warm to the touch. 

As much at Gon as himself, he laughed, a low, uncomfortable chuckle.

"Seriously?"

Gon nodded back. His faced tried to stay still, but Killua saw that tiny quiver of uncertainty on his full, lower lip. 

"That's pretty fucking cool," Killua said, as he resisted the big smile on his face. 

Gon flopped back to sit on the ground, and let out a big sigh.

"Oh man, I haven't told many people, and when they do they normally laugh at me, so this is a big relief."

Killua followed Gon to the floor. He sat next to him.

"I did laugh, though."

Gon waved one hand in front of his face.

"No, you weren't laughing at me, you were laughing with me. I mean, I know it's ridiculous, but..."

Killua looked around, a lot of mental puzzle pieces clicking into place. 

"That explains why you're still here, I guess?" Killua asked. "Even though you said you wanted to travel."

Gon nodded.

"I want to travel, too, and I'm hoping this can help, you know?" 

There was a big cash prize, of course, but also the opportunity to fly all over the country for competitions. 

Killua remembered the first time he saw Gon. The door opened, and in walked someone that would soon become far more important to him that he'd realized. The way his stomach dropped, and his head buzzed.

He felt the same thing now. 

"So, what's the plan?" Killua asked. 

"What do you mean?" Gon asked. 

"Like, you know," Killua said, sitting up straighter and gesturing with his hands. "The training plan. When's the first qualifier? How are getting ready for it?"

Gon looked sheepish as he pulled one knee up under his chin.

"Oh, uh, I guess I don't really have a plan or anything? I just come here, and try and get faster and stronger."

Killua's fingertips and toes tingled. He wanted to shake his finger at Gon, a gesture he'd been subjected to his entire life. He stood up, and started walking towards the center of the space.

"Dude, that'll never be enough. The guys who win those competitions are serious. They have coaches and join training clubs. They hire nutritionists and all of that."

Gon stood up.

"I am serious!" Gon shouted at Killua's back.

"No, you weren't. But," Killua said, starting a myriad of silent calculations in his head. 

"But?" Gon said, behind Killua. Killua felt an arm on his shoulder. He froze, and spun. He reached for Gon's hand, and shook it. 

"But, now you've got me. And you're gonna win the whole fucking thing."

\---- 

All of the lights snapped on, and Killua didn't quite shout, but he did startle and fall off the pommel horse face first onto the mat.

"Oh, Jesus, you are still here!"

Fumi trotted over to Killua's defeated lump of a body. She gave the small of his back a not very gentle kick. Killua groaned, and rolled over. Fumi smiled down at him, her faux leather jacket and short skirt proof positive she wasn't weight training, or whatever else she'd promised his parents she'd be doing tonight. 

"Where else would I be, slack ass?" Killua said, taking Fumi's offered hand to lift himself to his feet. He still couldn't handle being not just taller than her, but much, much taller. 

"I dunno, doing something worthwhile?" Fumi said, flapping her arms with her hands in the jacket pockets, so she looked like a dying bird trying and failing to take off and fly away. "Having fun, for once in your pitiful, short life?"

Killua clicked his tongue. He didn't say anything. He considered ignoring her, and climbing back on the horse, but it was nearly impossible to practice with Fumi around, anymore. She'd just watch him, and he'd wander outside his mind and lose all focus. He walked towards the rack off to the side, and grabbed two towels. He whipped one at Fumi's face, who didn't catch it before it wrapped around her nose and mouth. She laughed, and he pointed.

"Hey, if you're gonna talk shit, and end my practice early, at least help me clean up." 

Fumi grumbled, but got to work. They wiped everything down, and carried everything back to its place. 

Habits died hard.

"Hey," Fumi said, as they finished. "Can I ask you something?"

"I dunno, can you?" Killua retorted. Fumi threw the towel back at Killua's face. He chuckled, but she looked deadly serious. 

"Killua? Please?" 

It weirded Killua out to see Fumi look at him like she needed something from him. Fumi had never needed anything. To say she was self-sufficient was like saying there was some water in the ocean. 

"What?!" he replied, a little more agitated than he meant it. She just kept looking at him with this big, hazel eyes, and tiny, pouting mouth. 

"I wanna go to prom."

Killua responded before the meaning really hit home. 

"So? Who's stopping you?"

Fumi vibrated frustration. Her skin sizzled it off, he could almost see it coming off of her in waves. 

"Numbnuts, you do remember what day prom is, right?"

Killua had no fucking idea, and he told her so.

"It's April 12th."

That day, though, Killua recognized immediately.

"That's my qualifier."

Fumi nodded.

"Ah, so that's why you're asking," Killua said. He started walking towards the door, and she followed behind. 

"That's not the only reason."

"I don't care if you want to go to prom instead of the event, Fumi, you know that," Killua said, looking over his shoulder, voice softer. 

"I know, Killua, but that's not what I'm asking."

Killua heard her come to a dead stop behind him in the hallway. His feet always echoed with a dull reverberation that creeped him out at the best of times. He dreaded what he might see when he turned around. Even so, he turned to face her.

She just looked at him. He raised his eyebrows.

"I want you to come with me," Fumi said, words rushing out. "I'm asking you to prom."

She didn't smile, but she stuck her two hands out at her sides, fingers spread wide. She wiggled them.

"Ta-da!" she said, loudly. She blushed, and Killua couldn't breathe right.

"You're not joking, stupid jazz hands aside?"

Fumi put her hands back in her pockets, and shook her head. 

"You can say no, of course, but..."

Killua pinched the tip of his tongue with his teeth. 

"I..."

Fumi's eyebrows lifted. She let a little smile crawl back on her face.

"What will I even tell them?"

Fumi grinned all the way, wicked and confident.

"Nothing. We tell them nothing. Then, I offer to give you a ride. And, we just...never end up there. Tell em we had car trouble, or something else. They won't buy you a cellphone, right? It'll have to work."

The meet was out of town, and his parents made it clear they'd need him to go alone. Even Illumi had other places to be. He enjoyed the thrill of that idea, going by himself, managing himself, without their constant gaze.

But, if that was thrilling, this idea was positively radiant with dread and anticipation. 

"Fumi, I..."

Prom sounded so stupid. Even Fumi told him she thought it sounded stupid. But, going to it still felt really important. 

Going to it with Fumi felt positively mandatory.

"Yeah. Yeah, fuck it. I'm 17, right? If not now, then when?"

Fumi whooped so loud Killua had to cover his ears. She ran to him for a hug. He awkwardly closed his arms around her, still unsure where to place his hands, what to do with his nose. 

"So, like, are we dating?"

Fumi pulled back. She poked him in the ribs hard enough to hurt, before giggling. 

"Not until you manage to make it through one date without completely embarrassing me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the comments and notes and kindness has really improved my last few weeks. I'm so hopeful I can keep this story going, and do it justice. Thank you for joining me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ^^

"It looks like you're staying busy."

A precise, blandly pleasant voice snuck up behind Killua like a murderer in a slasher fic. He jumped like bone-thin fingers had just wrapped around his neck.

Killua turned automatically to look behind him. "Oh, fuck, Kurapika. You startled me."

Kurapika smiled back at him. The smile looked like how his voice sounded. As if the sound of Kurapika's voice alone would shatter Killua into a thousand broken and sharp edges. Killua kept his face as still as he could, and turned back to his computer.

"Of course, what else would I be doing at work?" Killua asked, trying for breezy, and landing instead on blustery and biting.

"You're an excellent lawyer, Killua, I've always told you so," Kurapika said, as he pulled up a chair. Killua turned his head towards him. He willed with every ounce of his willpower to let his eyes go unfocused.

"Thank you," Killua said, matching bland for bland.

"But, we all know how hard this time has been," Kurapika said, the unstated "for us" pushing Killua's teeth to the edge.

"And, it makes sense that everything would take a while to come together again. After all, you never took us up on our offer to take that time off that you needed..."

"Listen, Kurapika, you don't have to..." Killua said, standing and pivoting. Kurapika leaned over as Killua stood up, and his forehead collided with Kurapika's pointy chin. Kurapika shouted and Killua cursed.

"Kurapika! I told you, already, please..." Killua said, voice thinning into a plea. Heads all around them turned. The chatter and clacking keyboards all fell silent.

Killua shrank down into his only well fitting suit, wishing he could disappear under all of these eyes.

He glared at Kurapika, actually angry. There was a reason he'd come to work, tirelessly, without any break, and it was exactly so he never had to see those eyes.

Kurapika looked back at him. His sharp grey eyes, normally perceptive to the point of invasive, looked soft and forgiving.

Killua tried not to be sick. He shouldered past Kurapika.

"Killua, wait, I..." Kurapika said, but Killua marched out of hearing range as quickly as he could.

A pair of wide set, brown eyes waited for him by the elevator, and he was torn in half with his desire to breath a sigh of relief, and sprint away down the stairs instead.

"Hey," Canary said, pressing the down arrow, and tipping her carefully styled head back, encouraging him to follow her. "Drinks? On me? It's been a long time."

Killua could already taste the appletini at the bar they used to frequent, and he let out a long, luxurious sigh. Then, he looked at his watch, and frowned.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. Tonight's group."

"Can I at least walk you out?" Canary offered. She smiled at him, and it was soft and inviting, and washed away the greasy remnants of the day. Killua nodded.

"Yes, please."

The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. They walked in together. As the door closed, Killua leaned against the wall, groaning like the weight of standing up straight had been too much strain. Canary gently laughed.

"You have seemed better, though, you know," Canary said softly. "Is it this group you're going to?"

Killua can't even begin to imagine what better means.

"I guess it's keeping me busy. Not just the group. I..." Killua said. He considered his next words, as Canary fondly considered him, smiling just a little. "I met someone."

No one ever hid the confusion and surprise well, but Killua anticipated Canary's subtle forehead creases. She could frown just by ticking down one corner of her implacable smile.

"Oh, come on," Killua responded, fluster charring his voice. "I mean, he's, you know, a friend."

"Oh," Canary said, face unchanging. "He makes you happy?"

Killua just gawked.

"That's not..."

Canary didn't reveal herself very often. She didn't show the cogs turning, or the hesitation as thoughts formed into words in her mouth. She was smooth and eloquent, but for once, she paused. He could see her consider whether to interrupt, whether to say more, to prod or probe.

"I'm just happy for you," she finally said.

Canary had been the first person he'd told. Before he called Alluka. Before he returned home, to see Fumi's smiling face, a good attempt at faking him out, like he couldn't see the puffy pockets under her eyes, the red rings where she'd scrubbed her eyelids with her fists.

Canary let him sit quiet next to her for a long time. She finally said, only, "I'm so sorry."

What mattered then was that she meant it. What mattered now was that she meant this, too.

They walked through the lobby. He asked if she needed a ride, and she just shook her head and waved at him. She shouted over the winter wind, a fading silhouette in the darkness.

"It's okay!"

\----

Waking up sore, but not in pain, was a revelation. 

It hurt to wake from his dreams, where Fumi often hung out, waiting for him around corners, or laughing at him from a distance. They were nightmares, mostly, because he would wake up from them shaking and panicking, but at least she was there. 

Waking up was when the ache would settle in his chest, and he considered calling into work, which he never, ever did. He'd just settle for disgruntled, resentful, but silent stares when he wandered in late with the biggest coffee cup he could fill. 

Waking up sore because of a hard night's work reminded Killua of being young, and it reminded him of when he had the luxury to be annoyed and frustrated by how talented he was. How much was asked to do. Of a time when expectations for him existed, and they were high. 

The contrast satisfied him the way cranking the water in the shower to the highest temperature right after stepping in from the cold could. A jolting, electrifying pleasure.

There was no resentment now, because the night before had been amazing. 

\----

"Wait, you didn't really pull tractors, did you? Like, for sport?!"

At first, Killua had just been joking when he mumbled about Gon's corn fed, tractor pulling strength as he watched him lift himself, and lift hundreds of pounds, around the gym like it was nothing. But, Gon's eyes bowed with sheepishness couldn't hide his flush of pride.

"Yeah, got first prize at the county fair that year."

Killua grinned, because it was exciting to realize what a bounty of raw talent he now had to work with. 

"How'd you get so strong?"

Gon played football, of course, but Gon explained that he was just an "outside kid." He lived above the town bar with his Aunt Mito, but his summers and weekends were spent at his grandma's farmhouse. No TV, no video games, and only a few books sent Gon outside most days. Remnants of a dense national forest behind the small house gave him sturdy branches to climb and swing from, and creeks to leap across like a deer. 

"That sounds fucking idyllic," Killua said, as he watched Gon dangle from the grown-up sized monkey bars he'd installed between two platforms. Gon just grunted and laughed with a small, exhausted burst, as he got to the last bar, and pendulummed his legs to the last platform. 

Gon's energy reminded Killua of a child at play. They'd arrive at the gym, Killua holding himself together after a day of work, and Gon bouncing on his toes like it's his first day of school. 

It turned out to be more challenging that Killua would have guessed to channel that energy into something productive. 

"Yes, I can see that you can just use your momentum to throw yourself entirely over the gap, Gon," Killua shouted at him, exasperated and already tugging loose his tie and unbuttoning his shirt so he could climb up there too. "But you're not going to be able to depend on that for a competition. The adrenaline and nerves are going to make your hands shaky." 

Everything Gon learned, Gon had taught himself. It had been play. Just fun and games. As Killua climbed the structures, and sent his long limbs, limber and practiced, moving from obstacle to obstacle, he remember drills and repetition. It was never him, it was only his daily practice, and his fortunate combination of genes. 

"Killua!!!!" Gon shouted, jumping down to the floor to give him room. Killua's name crashed banged right into Killua's head, making his head spin, and forcing him to windmill his arms wildly upon landing. "Killua, you did that so fast!"

Killua nearly tipped over backwards hearing that, but it was the two hands, one warm on his lower back, one reaching up with curled, strong fingers to try to steady his ankle.

They fell together in a thud muffled dully by the cushion on the floor. Gon groaned underneath Killua's back, as Killua cursed and threw himself upright. 

"Gon, god, are you okay?"

"'Course," Gon said, hopping up before Killua could turn to offer his hand. He stuck his tongue out. "I'm not the one who fell, after all."

Killua's felt red and warm, and he wasn't sure if he was grimacing or grinning.

"Oh, fuck off," Killua spat. Gon put his tongue away, but continued to smile. 

"I mean, at first it seemed so easy for you, but now, seeing you fall..."

Killua lunged at Gon's waist, and Gon dodged, barely, and Killua wanted to chase him, but he was laughing too hard to breath. 

Gon danced away on his tiptoes. He jump up to grab one of the hanging rings. He could lift himself up, but lacked the dexterity to send himself spinning. He hadn't stopped trying, though, ever since Killua had done his makeshift little routine that first night. 

"Hey, Gon, get the fuck down. You still have shit to do tonight."

The response Killua got was for Gon to lift his legs, barely parallel to each other, to about his waist, before let his arms drop, sending his body straight, almost to the floor. He let go of the rings, and before Killua could run over to help, Gon sprawled right onto the floor. 

"Dammit, Gon," Killua said. He thought how he should be mad, how this was going to get Gon hurt, how it was a waste of time, but he couldn't be mad. He couldn't feel anything even close to mad. He stood over Gon, and put his hands on his hips.

Gon's eyes were closed. He smiled. 

"I think we're done," Gon said, without opening his eyes. Killua looked at his watch. It was really late. Time had gotten away from them again. 

"Yeah, shit, you're right."

Gon blinked one eye open. Killua squatted down next to him, about to offer his hand, finally, when Gon blurted it out. 

"Come over tonight."

Killua's hand dropped, and so did his jaw.

"Huh?"

"You don't have work, right? It's Friday." 

True enough. Gon sat up, and Killua fell back, until he was sitting on the ground next to Gon. Gon looked at him seriously. Killua nodded, and spoke.

"True, I don't work."

"I already told my aunt I won't be coming home this weekend," Gon replied. Killua's mouth opened, but he didn't actually have anything to say. Gon waited, politely, and then continued, the words a slightly too loud, slightly too fast to hear jumble. 

"So, you know, you could spend the night at my house, and I'll make you breakfast tomorrow, and we could train really early, you know? Make up for tonight? And we could watch some of my old recordings of the show, too, if you wanted."

"You mean, like a slumber party?" Killua asked. Gon nodded.

"Yeah!"

"But I'm..." Killua started to say. But he was what? An adult? A lawyer? A widow?

Gon's smile was a little shy, but mostly sunshiney with enthusiasm. It was an genuine, heartfelt invitation. It was kind and friendly. Killua knew Gon lived close, so it would make the night time trip easy, and then drive home tomorrow painless. 

Killua smiled back, and his heart did a little leap.

Oh, yeah.

"But I'm....really sorry, Gon, I can't." 

Gon's face fell, but he blinked it away, and smiled.

"Okay. Maybe another time?"

Killua stood up. He offered Gon a hand. Gon finally took it. His huge, warm hands were growing ever more toughened. He'd started to memorize some of their rough patches. 

"Maybe." 

"Alright," Gon agreed. "So, I'll see you...?"

Killua gathered his things. He didn't look Gon in the eye again that night. He shouted over his shoulder.

"I'll call you, okay? Keep doing those exercises I gave you, either way, okay?" 

Gon shouted that he would, as Killua shoved the door open. 

It was one of those awful, awkward drives, where he tried at first to listen to the radio, but he heard every song through cotton and mud in his ears. Then talk radio, but every voice was enough to make him shout with frustration. Soon he settled on the classical station, so low he couldn't hear it. 

The steering wheel was smooth and artificial, but Killua rubbed his palm against it, imagining warm, rough calluses.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, this chapter is long.

Until Fumi died, Killua had never lived alone.

He used to crave quiet and alone time. He would take long runs just to hear himself think. He used to study in cafes and libraries, headphones cranked to medically unadvised levels. Fumi would send him jokes and texts all day, as well as cute cat pictures.

When he used to come home, right till the end, his house would never be completely silent. Fumi's breathing, her every movement and spare thought, rattled around the cage of their apartment like loose change at the bottom of a pocket.

Now, even with the TV on as loud as he could get it, or music playing, the apartment took deep, endless, silent breaths.

The empty space between commercials. That moment after he turned the TV off before work. When he pressed the dismiss button on his phone after the alarm sounded.

That's when Killua's grief would flood in. Grief, it turned out, was liquid. It would expand to fill every available space.

Killua hated being home alone, but he had no interest in doing anything else, either, until Alluka forced him to attend that grief support group.

He was scared to text Gon, or call him, but the next day something reminded Killua of him immediately. That 80 days book. He saw some commercial featuring it. He sent the link to Gon. Gon sent him back a smiley face, and a thumbs up. 

The relief washed over Killua, and made the whole day as buoyant as a giant, helium balloon rounding the corners of the globe. 

Now, he didn't exactly have to hate being at home, because something else had started to fill the corners of his empty space.

\----

It was a requirement to sit in silence in this basement that smelled too warm, with its low-ceiling, and no safe place to rest his gaze. Killua could look down at his knees, but even that would draw attention to his attempt to draw no attention to himself.

He looked forward to it, all week, because he'd sit next to Gon. Even though he hadn’t called him that week, he knew what awaited him. They'd whisper to each other between topics. They'd wander outside during the break, Killua smoking, and Gon breathing warm air into his hands.

Today, though, he pulled his knees tighter today, not daring to touch Gon. Not daring to point out the stillness descending over his friend, who normally bounced his knee, or flexed and unflexed his fingers, or tipped his head left and right as he listened.

"All deaths are meaningful," June announced. "All lives have meaning, and so all deaths have meaning, too."

A scoff prepared to leap off of Killua's lips, until he heard Gon's quiet, sharp gasp.

Gon was shorter than Killua, a compact and powerful bundle of muscles and positive energy whose very presence could fill a room, but now he'd shrunk in on himself like a cosmic death. Tiny, dense and devastating.

The need to reach out and grab Gon's hand built inside Killua's chest and belly an imminent sneeze, but the very notion was impossible and absurd, so he clasped his hands together.

"Tonight, we're going to work on our own to do some exploring. What meaning can be found in our losses?"

Another worksheet passed down both sides of the circle, along with a dinged up cardboard box filled with old ballpoint pens. Knees awkwardly bent so people could write on their laps.

Killua held the pen poised, ready to write, but he couldn't move.

Gon, next to him, climbed off of his chair, and sat on the floor, facing it. He set the worksheet on the plastic seat, and began to scribble furiously.

Every stray glance Killua saw words in unsteady font, wriggly against the bumps of the seat.

"No meaning...."

"She had so much..."

"She was in pain until..."

A fever of shame lifted bile into Killua's throat. It painted his treacherous skin red. He tried then only to stare dutifully at his own worksheet.

The only distraction was the words on the page. 

"What ideas, events and moments were meaningful to your loved one?"

Fumi graduated from the top of her class in high school and college. She got into the best medical school in the region. She conquered the first two miserable years while Killua struggled through law school, both of them subsisting on peanut butter, ramen, and fireball whiskey. 

Fumi helped Alluka pick her name, and pick her college. Fumi held Alluka's hand when Alluka met her first psychiatrist. 

Fumi cried when they got engaged.

Fumi cried when Killua held her hand in the doctor's office. Only months left. 

Not enough time.

Did none of it matter? She asked, crumbled over his lap, as Killua furiously shook her head.

Everything mattered. Where would we be without her?

He didn't say it. How could he tell her that she lived for them, and would die alone?

She wiped her nose, and left the room, and he did not need to tell her exactly what she already knew.

\----

Killua and Gon drove in silence to Gon's gym. Group too had required painful, lengthy silence. Killua danced a little in his seat. Gon still sat quiet next to him. When Gon was really deep in thought, it was easy to tell. A tiny set of creases on his big forehead. A barely perceptible pout of his lips. 

He looked like a child. He looked like someone still coming to understand the depth of life's cruelties.

"Group today sucked," Gon finally said. 

Killua laughed dryly in agreement. "Sure did."

"It's, just," Gon began. Killua looked over at him and back at the road, as often as he could, as Gon spoke. 

"It's just, like, I mean, I remember the doctor saying that, like, this is no one's fault. Retz didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to die. That it was terrible, awful luck she was born with those genes."

Killua wasn't even certain terrible people deserved to die, let alone the woman Gon loved enough to marry. He noticed then that his mouth was parched, and he was disappointed to remember he didn't have anything to drink. He could only nod. 

"They keep telling me to move on," Gon said. "Everything is always about trying to pretend it's all now okay." 

"It's okay that it's not okay," Alluka told Killua, a few days after, when he didn't want to eat, and hadn't slept, and told her how goddamn fucking angry he was at himself for that.

"What does okay even mean?" Killua asked. 

Gon looked at him, shading his brown eyes with furrowed, questioning brows. Killua gulped, but it turns out there was more to say.

"Like, I don't think the group was saying to pretend anything's okay. To pretend that you're happy, or that you don't miss her."

Driving through cold, silent blackness into the back alleys of the warehouse district required more attention than Killua could devote, looking at Gon as frequently as he did, but Gon's gaze filched away piece after piece of his attention. 

"I think they were trying to say that the way you feel about her, even now, matters. You know?"

Killua nosed the car carefully into the spot under the single spotlight above the door. Neither of them moved to exit the car. 

Gon was still quiet. Killua shuffled his feet. 

"Like, she mattered, and your relationship mattered. And, the way her death made you feel. That matters. It all matters."

His mother smiled at him, all day, when they arrived in the days after Fumi's death.

_Now you can come home._

As if he didn't have his job, or Alluka. He'd told Alluka not to be there for this, but she refused, saying she wasn't going anywhere until he would be okay.

They acted like Alluka wasn't even there.

They acted like Fumi hadn't ever been there.

"You won't ever forget Retz. No one ever gets to take her away from you. Her death never matters less, no matter what anyone says."

Gon said Killua's name, softly, and Killua tore his eyes away from the steering wheel.

"Killua?" Gon said, this tone questioning, his face hidden in the gloom but for a pair of brown eyes, and a flash of white teeth.

"Hmm?"

The eyes closed, and the smile faded. The voice seemed almost to come from nowhere.

"I don't feel like working out tonight, honestly."

Relief relaxed the grip on Killua's chest, all of a sudden.

"Me either."

They sat together, purposeless and free, and the relief made his breath come easier, but then he imagined Gon opening the door, and walking away.

"Can I give you a ride home?" Killua asked. Gon nodded, and gave a wordless hum of assent.

The car fired back up, and Killua carefully backed the car away from the building, and as he turned his head to look behind, he saw Gon's profile in the shifting lights shining through the window.

Gon's eyes shimmered. His small smile was not a happy one. The shimmer seemed also to slide down Gon's cheeks. 

Killua could picture Gon slamming the car door, opening the door to his apartment building, and never, ever coming back.

"Gon?" Killua asked.

"Yeah?"

"Is that invitation still open? To come to your place?"

"Yes, please. It'd be great if you came over."

Killua nodded. He drove slowly through the slush and the dark, and his face glowed warm like a midday sun was shining on it.

\----

Gon's apartment was very small. Too small for a newlywed couple.

"No, we didn't live here. We moved in with my grandma after we got married, because Retz had gotten so sick."

No, this was a bachelor's apartment. Or, more accurately, a widower's appointment. Killua wished it didn't make him feel sad, because that was a ridiculous way to feel about the home his smiling friend welcomed him into with a sweep of his hand.

"It's not much, but make yourself at home."

It was spare to the point of being bleak. Killua saw a futon and a TV perched on a plastic milk crate. A card table, some folding chairs, and a mattress on the floor in the bedroom were the only other furnishings. Gon took Killua's coat, and gently placed them on his bed.

Meanwhile, Killua wandered to the kitchen, his first stop in any new home. He opened Gon's fridge, and was not entirely surprised to see nothing inside but ketchup, sriracha, a mustard jar from a Hillshire Farms gift box, and a 24 pack of beer. In the cabinets were a full set of dinnerware, beautiful tumblers, nice mugs, and a fully stocked line of rail liquor.

"Well, one mystery solved," Killua said to Gon when Gon wandered over to join him. "Your diet fucking sucks."

"Hey," Gon said, giving Killua a little shove with his elbow. "I just don't really like to cook much."

Killua scoffed.

"Take out might still be an improvement, you dope."

Gon reached over Killua's head for the piece of paper stuck to his freezer door.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna order you pizza tonight, and you're going to like it, so be grateful."

Killua closed the door to the fridge, and opened the freezer door to see three ice cube trays, a nice set of whiskey stones, and a handle of vodka.

A light bulb went off metaphorically over Killua's head. He closed the freezer door, and looked at Gon.

"These are all wedding presents, huh?" Killua asked, nodding towards the butcher block and nice knives, the stand mixer, and the bread maker.

Gon laughed, but he didn't smile.

"Yep."

Gon stepped away to call the pizza place, and Killua opened the fridge door again. He pulled out the handle of vodka.

"Hey Gon, I'm helping myself to booze, you want in?"

"Absolutely!" Gon shouted back before greeting the person on the other end who he spoke to like they were his oldest friend.

Killua didn't normally like to drink vodka, or anything, straight up, but tonight he had no interest in watering down his buzz. He did the same for Gon, pouring an unmeasured couple of glugs in one of the probably never once used glasses.

"Alright, pizza will be here soon!" Gon shouted from the other room. Killua cheered as he carried the glasses over to   
Gon, sitting on the futon. Killua considered the folding chair, and right next to Gon on the flimsy futon, and instead opted for the floor.

Gon looked at Killua disarmingly, then, after he'd finally plopped to the ground.

"Thanks, Killua."

Killua took a sip, cringed, and took another.

"For what? Pouring you your own vodka?"

Gon took a big slug of his drink, and groaned happily before continuing.

"I do appreciate that, but that's not why I'm thanking you."

Killua wrapped both of his hands around his glass, concentrating on the nearly unbearable cold, as he watched Gon look at him.

"Thanking me?"

Gon set his cup down on the floor. He pushed himself upright with this hands on his knees. Then, almost like he was bowing, he leaned forward a little, and looked down at the carpet between his feet.

"I'm really happy I met you, even though I wish it wasn't because Fumi died. I'm really, really glad you're my friend."

The cold stung, it hurt so bad it was suddenly hot in his hands, not cold.

"Ouch! Fuck!"

Vodka spilled in his lap. It smelled as nauseous as Killua suddenly felt.

Gon dropped to his knees, and scooted over until his face was right next to Killua's.

"Are you okay?" Gon asked.

Pressure built in Killua's throat and chest until he couldn't breath, so no, he wasn't really okay, but he nodded anyway.

It did not convince Gon. Instead, Gon wrapped his hands around Killua's, offering to take the glass away. Killua's response was undignified and necessary.

He shoved Gon away, with a barking laugh, and tipped the entire contents of the glass into his mouth, two shots worth of vodka easy.

Pushed back until he was crouched on his heels, Killua lifted his eyes from the bottom of his glass to meet Gon's. Gon's eyes considered him with wonder, even as his lips quirked with the faintest little mystery of a twitch.

"Okay then!" Gon said. He reached around behind himself, slapping the carpet until his hand found his glass. "Bottoms up!"

Gon downed his glass with a hearty groan. He smacked it down on the carpet, and flashed his megawatt smile at Killua's stunned face.

"Oh, Gon Freecss," Killua said, as he stood so fast his head spun, and he legs faded away like buzzed ephemera, until his head was a helium balloon trailing a long, white string along the carpet. "You don't know what you just got yourself into."

A loud, bouncing laugh chasing Killua into the kitchen heartily disagreed.

\----

There's a moment Fumi used to call "critical mass," where the risk of drinking more was perfectly balanced against the fear of sobering up. Killua reached that moment some time after the second vodka. Some time after the jug of wine was broken out. After the tequila shot Gon somehow talked the pizza delivery gal into having with them.

("Gon, she has to drive!"

"No, she doesn't! Right? Aren't you a bike courier?"

"In this weather?!"

She laughed.

"I'm almost off the clock, and if you think I won't need this to get through my shift, you're wrong, pretty boy."

"PRETTY BOY!"

"Gon, shut up, and give the girl her shot!")

Now there was every-possible-topping pizza in his belly, doing its best to soak up the booze, but it was no use. Killua lay back on the floor, legs bent and feet resting on the seat of a folding chair, watching the dust motes and spiderwebs wiggle along the ceiling.

He heard Gon grunt, and flop down on the floor next to him.

"Do you really want to hear the story?" Gon asked.

Killua gulped, trying to prevent slurring.

"Yes, I do," Killua mumbled, succeeding at not slurring, but failing to speak loud enough to be heard. Gon craned his neck up to look at Killua. Killua looked back, meeting brown eyed clarity with his own clouded blues, and nodded.

"We took my jeep up to the overlook. The one we went to on prom night."

Killua snorted. He'd heard about that night, already.

"Make out point?"

"Well, yeah, some kids called it that."

"Yeah, because Fuck Summit, or something, just doesn't have quite the same ring."

Killua watched Gon blush, which seemed utterly ridiculous after the stories he'd already told Killua about his wild and horny courtship with Retz.

"I mean, we didn't always go up there to have sex!" Gon insisted.

"Aunt Mito will be relieved to hear it," Killua said, with sarcastic gravity. Gon gasped, and grabbed Killua's wrist.

"You wouldn't dare?!"

"Gon, I hate to tell you this, again, but I have never met the woman, and don't have her number."

Floppy with drunkenness, Killua's hand went limp above Gon's grip. Gon bent Killua's arm until the hand was just above Killua's nose. He shook Killua's arm so Killua's own fingers brushed his skin.

"Mito always finds out, somehow. Promise!"

It tickled, but Killua was already laughing with slippery abandon.

"Of course, Gon, I promise! God, cut it out!"

Killua insisted with his words, but he kept his arm very still, watching rapt as Gon's fingers looped around his wrist like a bracelet. Gon kept his fingers like that as he continued.

"But, anyway, so we went up there, and I'd had the ring for like, a year."

"A year?! Before you were even a senior in high school?"

"Yeah," Gon said. "It was my great grandma's ring. A family heirloom."

Killua had never seen it, but the tiny ring, filigreed and delicate, appeared as clear in his memory as if he'd held the ring in his own hand.

"Was it too small?"

Gon looked at Killua, amazed.

"Yes, it was! She had to wear it around her neck on a chain." 

"Do you have pictures?" Killua asked. Gon gave Killua's wrist a squeeze.

"Do you wanna see?"

"Yeah, of course."

Gon placed Killua's hand delicately on Killua's chest, before shooting upright and bouncing to the bedroom. Killua sat up, grudgingly, and considered the half full jug of wine, before settling on water. He stood up, and wandered into the kitchen as Gon emerged, arm full of picture frames and a small, white photo album. 

Gon said, unloading his arms onto the counter top. Killua made a sound of approval through his mouth filled with lukewarm tap water. Gon narrowed his eyes, looking serious. "Alright." 

They stood together at the counter. Even though standing made Killua's vision do little bouncy jumps in focus. 

"These are mostly from our wedding," Gon explained. The ruffles and lace on the photo album gave that secret away early, of course, but Killua just nodded. The book flipped open to reveal Gon and Retz both young, smiling, and gloriously in love. Gon looked deliriously out of place in a rented suit too tight around his arms and shoulders, and Retz smiled gently in a shimmery, strapless gown. 

It didn't escape Killua's notice that Retz was sitting for a lot of these photos. 

"She wanted to save her energy for the ceremony," Gon explained. The ceremony pictures were shaky, like they'd been taken by an attendant and not the photographer. Killua pointed at one of them.

"Is that Aunt Mito?"

"Yep!" Gon explained. It would have been easy to pick her out even if she hadn't been sitting in the place of honor for the groom's mom. She had the same striking complexion and big, brown eyes. 

It was a small ceremony. 

"Only her parents, and a few friends, and Aunt Mito came."

Killua could see Retz's parents. They looked less like the proud attendees of a wedding, and instead like mourners standing graveside.

Gon looked at Killua, and traced the direction of his gaze.

"They didn't like me," Gon whispered. 

That idea of someone not liking Gon sounded impossible, like Gon was pulling his leg. He looked at Gon's face, softly smiling, but so softly it could crumble like a leaf at the slightest touch. 

Killua looked back at the picture. Gon and Retz at the altar. Retz thin, and weak, Gon glowing and golden. Both beautiful, but Gon beautiful in the way a photograph of a landscape looks beautifully permanent, and unshakable. Retz looked beautiful, too, but she looked like snow fall. One puff of air, and the flakes would melt away. 

Gon shone like the sun, and any second now she would disappear under the strength of his light. 

The small sniffle made Killua jump. Gon pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. Killua recognized the hitch of a voice, and the arrhythmic breathing. 

"Gon?"

"Sorry, I..." Gon began, before the sobs erupted. Tears fell on the plastic sheets covering the photo album, protecting the photos, but Killua quickly shoved them out of the line of fire. Gon nearly crumbled, his arms bending, his head moving straight towards the counter top. 

"Hey, hey!"

Killua reached one arm across Gon's chest, holding him upright. He grabbed his other shoulder. Gon leaned into his arms, his body flimsy in its grief. 

Before any of it made sense, Gon's forehead rested in the crook of Killua's neck, his tears soaking into Killua's jacket. His hands gripped the fabric of Killua's shirt and jacket with two vice grips. Killua murmured half-words. His hands rested on Gon's lower back, and then his upper back. His fingers walked up into Gon's hair, hugging him tight. 

Gon began to wail.

"I'm sorry, Killua, I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"Shhhhh," Killua purred. He shook his head, looking over Gon's shoulder into the darkness of the hallway, the black void of Gon's bedroom. "There's nothing to apologize for." 

Gon shook his head, back, not able to get out any words other than "I'm sorry." 

"No, no, Gon, it's..."

Killua fingers untangled from Gon's hair. They moved to Gon's cheek, tear soaked and flushed from drunkenness. Gon lifted his head at the touch, sniffling loudly, his red rimmed eyes still spilling over. 

"Maybe it's time for bed?"

Gon nodded. He released his grip. He backed away, until Killua's hand on his cheek was the remaining point of contact. He reached his hand up, and covered Killua's hand with his own. 

"Yeah."

Gon curled his fingers around Killua's hand. Their hands, linked together, dropped until they dangled between them. 

The link was warm, and sweaty, but it wasn't at all uncomfortable, until Gon looked down at their hands.

"Oh, Killua?"

Killua tore his hand back. Gon looked up. 

"Do you want the bed?"

Killua furrowed his brow, and his jaw dropped. Gon spoke again.

"Like, to sleep on? And I'll use the couch?"

Killua shook his head.

"No, couch is fine. I sleep on my couch at home, too."

"Aw, oh no, you do?" Gon said, worry coating his voice as thickly as the crying had. Killua shrugged, looking at Gon's wet, warm face, and then back down at the floor.

"Yeah, whatever. Also, hey, drink water first, okay?" Killua said. He look over to the counter, and found a glass. He turned to fill it. Gon mumbled in agreement, but didn't move. He looked completely helpless. Killua turned back around, and shoved Gon by the shoulder, forcing him to spin around. 

"Go to bed, I'll bring you water and Tylenol."

The back of Gon's head nodded. Killua filled the glass, and took it to the bathroom. A disgusting, shameful mess met him in there, and he rolled his eyes, but at least, apart from the spare hairs and ancient, curled up toothpaste tube was a bottle of pain killer. He brought them both into Gon's room. 

Gon was laying face down on top of his crocheted coverlet. His clothes were still on, but at least his shoes had been kicked off earlier. Killua set the glass and pills down on the bedside table. 

"Hey," Killua said, poking Gon in the soft spot right under his armpit. "Drink and take," Killua said, pointing. Gon groaned, and turned over. He looked at the glass, and then at Killua. He reached for the glass with one hand, and Killua's hand with the other. 

A question, and then another, raced through Killua's head. He would have said something, he's sure, but his jaw locked shut. Gon held his hand tighter and tighter as he swallowed the glass in one long gulp. Then he dry swallowed the pills. He groaned, seemingly satisfied, and blinked his eyes up at Killua.

"Thank you, Killua." 

He squeezed Killua's hand, tight, and then let it go. He rolled back around on his belly, and buried his face in his one pillow.

"G'night. I'll make breakfast tomorrow."

Killua thought, immediately, how he wouldn't, there wasn't even butter in that fridge, but then he looked down at his hand, and he felt a wave of nausea crash down on him. He made it to the bathroom, his stomach settling back down, as he, too, helped himself to Tylenol, and bent over the sink, slurping tap water into his mouth. 

Sleep did come, and not after too long, but Killua had bored a hole into Gon's ceiling with his wide eyes, the gaze a pinpoint of super hot energy born in his throat and lungs.


	8. Chapter 8

It turned out there were no curtains or blinds on Gon's living room windows. The winter morning sunlight didn't shock him awake, but slowly warmed him. It gently prodded open his eyes, asking him to leave the lonely darkness of sleep, and join the living.

Then, Killua heard the rattle of ice in a glass, and the padding of bare feet on linoleum. He bent his head back to see Gon, upside down, and naked but for a pair of boxer briefs, walking towards him.

"Good morning!"

With a graceless l scramble, Killua righted himself, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Mornin'," Killua said. He yawned, and stretched, and as he lowered his arms a cold drink was pressed into his hand.

"Here," Gon explained. "Hair of the dog what bit you."

It was a tall glass of swimming red liquid, two ice cubes cheerfully bobbing. It smelled of celery salt and hot sauce.

"Blood Mary?"

"Sort of!" Gon answered, before taking another long swig of his, leaving a red mustache on his upper lip. Killua took a tentative sip. He grimaced.

"Oh," Killua said. His lack of enthusiasm for the drink was impossible to hide. Gon threw back his head laughing.

"Not a fan?"

"No, but I'll still drink it," Killua said, diving in again. "So, this breakfast?"

Gon sat on the floor, and crossed his feet. Morning light lengthened the shadows of Gon's face, making his cheekbones and strong chin all the more striking. His full lips smiled at Killua like he had a secret, teeth flashing only for the briefest moments before he took another drink.

"No, I still owe you food. This is just to help me get out the door."

Killua took another long sip of the savory, disgusting drink before he made the decision to bite the bullet, and finally look at Gon's bare chest.

He made a mistake.

He was creased with definition, muscles brimming with strength, both newly honed and etched long ago.

But it wasn't the perfection that made looking a mistake.

It was the tiny scar over Gon's hipbone, right at the soft curl of his belly. It was the scruffy hair, spread without intention or art over his pecs and tummy. Scattered between his collar bones. 

It was the dark brown nipples. It was the tiny mole visible just above the left one. 

It was the question Killua's lips asked. What would all of that messy, imperfect perfection feel like, underneath, warmed by his breath, soft and hard? 

He had to answer it with his own fingernail, anxiously shoved against his mouth, arresting and familiar. 

"I should get going, though," Killua said, pulling out his phone with one hand, and standing to take one final, courageous sip of his Phony Mary. 

"Aw, you sure?" Gon said, his smile instantly turning all the way around to a deep frown. He sounded truly disappointed. Killua hated that sound. His heart wavered, just for a moment, before he saw the dozen notifications lighting up his cellphone, all from the same number.

"Oh, shit," Killua hissed as he looked at his screen. "Yeah, sorry dude, I gotta."

"Okay," Gon said, standing as well. He took Killua's glass from him, and nodded at it. Killua smiled absentmindedly as he started thumbing a message into the screen. Gon  
slurped down Killua's drink without hesitation. Killua realized what was happening just as he pressed send. He whistled with admiration.

"Jeesh, dude, I don't know how you can stand that shit, but it's impressive all the same."

"Yeah, well," Gon said, lowering the empty glass. "We don't all prefer our alcohol mixer to be melted candy, Killua." 

Killua blew a raspberry at Gon. He tucked his hand and phone into his pocket.

"Yeah, well," Killua replied. Goodbyes always sucked. Gon seemed to agree, the grimace shading his face made that clear. 

"So, will I see you before Thanksgiving?"

Killua blinked.

"Oh, fuck, that's this week isn't it?"

Gon laughed. Killua pulled out his phone again and clicked through to his calendar app.

"No, I'll actually have to work this week, including some long nights."

Gon sighed, a little, but tried to hide his disappointment behind a smile. 

"That's alright, Killua." 

Killua put his phone away again.

"Mito will be happy to see you, I'm sure?" Killua asked. Gon looked off to the side. 

"Yeah, she probably misses me." 

Killua watched Gon stare off into space, and he felt uneasy.

"Of course she does, dude."

Gon narrowed his eyes, and trained them on Killua. 

"What will you be doing on Thanksgiving?"

"Ah, fuck," Killua said, laughing sheepishly. "Fucking nothing, except hanging out with Alluka, I guess." 

The uneasiness grew. Gon shifted from foot to foot. Killua used up all his courage earlier, so he could only watch Gon's feet, and couldn't venture up much further. 

"Uh, well," Gon started.

"Okay, well," Killua continued. 

Gon's stance opened. His arms stilled, and the stillness drew Killua's eyes up. 

Their eyes met.

It was terrifying to see that hopeful smile. To see Gon's arms widen, just a little, just that inviting. 

"Thanks for staying over! It was fun."

Killua gulped. 

"Yeah, thanks for having me."

Gon stepped forward. 

Killua had already used up all of his courage. He stepped back and put his hand on the door knob.

"Have a good day, Gon."

"Ah," Gon said, stopping. Smiling as wide as ever. "You too."

The apartment hallway was freezing, and by the time Killua had walked outside, his teeth were genuinely chattering. 

\----

_Bro!_

_Where the eff, bro?_

_Just blow me off, I see how it is._

_I'm worried but you're just being a butthead._

_I hope._

\----

"Alluka, I'm so sorry!" Killua started as soon as he heard his sister answer. 

"The dead hath risen!" Alluka said, gravely, before laughing "Wrong holiday season, broheim."

"I completely forgot that last night was Friday." 

"Yeah, sure," Alluka said, teasing. Killua bonked his head back against his car seat, unable to turn the ignition yet.

Group had been rescheduled that week, because of the facilitator's holiday plans. Killua forgot to let Alluka know that he'd be breaking their Friday night traditions for the first time since it started the week after Fumi died. It was just an oversight.

He laughed with a bitterly sharp edge. 

"What?" Alluka asked. "Killua, are you actually okay?"

"I mean," Killua started. He looked at his even whiter than normal knuckles as they gripped the steering wheel. He unclenched, and then clenched again. He drew a long breath in through his nose.

"You knew," Killua started, at a whisper. Alluka murmured at him to speak up. 

"You knew I'm gay, right?"

He wished for a moment that the silence had meant the phone had gone dead on him. He drummed his fingers on the wheel. He lifted the phone from his ear to check. He heard her clear voice as he readied his finger to end the call.

"Yeah, I think so. Yeah. For a while."

"I'm sorry," Killua said, looking at the phone, the receiver far from his mouth. 

"What?" Alluka asked. "Bro, I can't hear you."

Killua lifted the phone again. 

"I'm sorry," Killua said, again, flatly. 

There was another pause, but he could hear Alluka's small, breathy hum. 

"Hey, I don't think over the phone is the right way to talk about this, okay?"

Killua nodded, and somehow she knew. She always knew.

"I have midterms and such, but we'll hang out this weekend, okay?"

"Okay, sounds like a plan." 

It wasn't quite relief, more like a stay of execution. At least he finally felt able to turn on the car. 

"This doesn't actually explain why you blew me off, though."

Killua groaned, softly, and laughed. 

"Iron trap of a mind, as always."

"So, is there a..."

And then, suddenly, Alluka was shy, which still delighted the big brother in him.

"A guy?"

"Yeah, that."

Killua chuckled. 

"No, or, well, he's a guy, but..."

"But?"

Killua sighed, two steps ahead but he knew Alluka was three or four ahead of that. 

"But, he's just a friend."

"That guy you met at the grief group?"

"That's the one." 

Alluka giggled at him, and his nose stung. He was also fucking ravenous after that promised breakfast never materialized. 

"Okay, we'll talk later. Okay?"

Alluka agreed. 

"Study good, or whatever it is you do in those weak-ass liberal arts classes."

"We talk about our feelings and ways to overthrow the patriarchy."

"Fantastic, sounds like not a waste at all of our money." 

They whipped each other into a giggling fervor. 

"I love you, big bro."

"Love you, too, Alluka. Thanks."

"No, thank you! Talk to you later!"

He cranked the heat in his car until he could finally feel his nose again, and he took himself out for waffles and hot chocolate. 

\----

They both knew, a long time ago. The parts of themselves to protect, to hide away in the labyrinth of their hearts. 

The difference was their courage.

Alluka had always been brave. Way braver than Killua. 

"I wasn't braver, Killua. I was dying. It was life or death, you know?"

She knew as soon as she could talk.

"I'm a girl," she whispered to him, pointing at herself. "Not a boy."

It was just a fact. Like green grass, and blue skies filled with sunshine. 

Their parents didn't listen, and they didn't believe. They stopped short, just looking at Alluka's outside. 

Of course, they did the same thing to Killua.

He was talented, and took to the mat with ease from a young age. He looked like a tiny version of his father, but he had his mother's effortless, lithe grace. 

They saw his what his outside looked like, and thought that meant they could decide his truth for him.

He'd become the heir apparent. The champion, who'd win medals and accolade and inherit his parents' fame. He'd grow up, compete, retire gracefully, marry and have more Zoldycks, ready and able to continue the proud family tradition. 

Fumi was beautiful and talented, just like Killua, and their partnership couldn't have been written in the stars with more elegant predestination. 

Until Fumi asserted her truth, just like Alluka did. 

"I want to be a doctor," she told Killua, late one night. They were watching old videos of his family's many routines. She looked starry eyed at them, as always, impressed and delighted, which made her declaration all the more startling. 

"Is that why you've been skipping practice?"

"Yeah, I gotta get perfect grades. And my extracurriculars need to be all well rounded. Volunteering at soup kitchen stuff, you know?"

Killua realized he'd made the same mistake about Fumi his parents made about Alluka. He saw her outside, and thought that was all there was to it. 

But the reality was that Fumi was the most amazing person he'd ever met, and he told her so, years later, with an engagement ring in his hand. A snare ready to capture some of that bravery for himself. To take just a small token, a lucky rabbit's foot, in exchange for the practiced efforts of his lies. 

That's why Killua never knew anything, for sure, except that he was a coward. Fumi and Alluka knew their truth, and he had known his, too. 

The first time a boy smiled at him from across the room, all perfect white teeth and full lips. 

The first time he saw his classmates changing, and realized that shame as bright hot as a sunburn was crawling across his chest and back, as pleasure and pain coursed through his body. 

When Fumi asked him out, asked him to dance, kissed him, and the shame he'd felt naked and surrounded by strangers was eclipsed in a moment by the shame of holding his best friend, his first love, tight to himself and feeling nothing.

Feeling nothing. 

His truth wouldn't rescue him, like it did Alluka and Fumi. It would leave him drowning, wordlessly sinking into the dark, and he built as many walls as he could, installed locks and keys and riddles. 

When Fumi smiled at him, and Alluka smiled at them both, it wasn't so bad, really, letting the dark water pour into his mouth until consciousness faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapters have finally been written since I published everything on Tumblr originally. Yay! From Chapter 10 and onward, it'll all be new stuff that was never published on tumblr. (I'll still cross post, of course.) No idea how I can keep up the schedule, but I'm happy to make some progress! Thank you for reading. <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one.

Killua got the all hands on deck call late Saturday morning, after breakfast and cartoons, and he probably startled his boss's assistant with how eager he sounded to come in.

Armed with a highlighter, and earbuds, Killua dutifully ignored Canary's bemused stares and Kurapika's brittle and constant throat clearing to plow through pile after pile of dry, endless contract documents.

"You really don't want to have to work late this week, huh?" Canary asked. Killua pulled the earbuds out of his ears.

"Oh, no, I already volunteered for extra shifts. Apparently I get more days around Christmas off for it, but..."

He just shrugged, and went back to his task.

It was something he'd learned how to do in law school, when Fumi started getting really sick. Bury his nose in his work in order to avoid all attempts by the outside world to intrude.

\----

Really, Killua thought, it was impressive he made it almost 46 hours before he caved. The bright green blinking meant it wasn't his sister, her messages always blinked blue.

Green meant Gon.

He scrolled through all of them as he was about to head to bed.

"hey"

"working hard or hardly working?"

"i got in a work out"

And then a selfie, Gon in a tank top near his weights. Wearing a tiny, confident smirk.

Killua didn't have the patience to read anything more before replying.

"if u have time to selfie u have time for 50 more burpees dude"

He made it through a few more bits of texted small talk before the immediate reply.

"Hi! You're awake!"

Killua was awake. Midnight was right around the bend.

"So are you"

"Yeah, can't sleep. tomorrow going back home to see Mito"

"that sounds nice. u gonna make her one of your patented gross out bloody marys?"

"never, Mito makes them the best. But probably not, she doesn't drink"

"She's a smart woman I always knew that about her"

"she'd love to hear that"

"i'll send her an xmas card if you give me her address"

And then, Gon did. So quickly it was like Gon was just waiting for him to ask.

"uh speaking of that"

Killua's ears suddenly felt too warm, so he pulled the earbuds he was wearing out, and sat up.

"if you and your sister wanted to come to thanksgiving im sure Mito would love that"

Killua's thumb hovered over the digital keys, waiting for his brain to come back online.

"since i know your family is a bunch of buttheads"

To say the least, Killua thought, brain slowly chugging back up to speed.

"so yeah"

"you can invite alluka if you want"

Killua's thumb almost tapped out his response, but it froze in mid air again at the next, lightning fast message

"or you can come by yourself"

Killua shivered in the dark. He stopped reading to lean over and pull his blanket all the way to his chin.

"if u want"

He shivered. The blanket was already stifling. His clothing were itchy and uncomfortable, and his jaw clicked in his ears. It was suddenly so hot, even down in his throat, down in his stomach.

Eventually, he moved his thumbs.

"I think Alluka is looking forward to just hanging at home."

The panic at seeing the "Gon Freecs is typing...." pop up moved his thumbs at light speed.

"But we should definitely hang out when you come back."

The ellipses disappeared. Killua choked on his own heart for only a second before they popped up again.

"yeah! anyway I gotta sleep. night night!"

Killua typed in his own good night, and then, of all fucking things, a received this final goodbye.

"<3"

\----

Alluka sucked air in through her teeth so loudly Killua was worried she was choking on her pad thai.

"He sent you a heart emoji!? You're joking."

Killua would never joke about emojis. He entered his passcode, scrolled to the message, and tossed Alluka his phone. She caught it one handed, cackling as she did, before falling deadly silent.

"Killua," Alluka said, hushed and awed. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Killua's eyes blew out, and he set down both his food and his phone so he could hugely, and dramatically, shrug.

"Don't you think if I fucking knew, I'd fucking tell you?"

Alluka looked into her own bowl of noodles.

"Well, so, like, he definitely likes you."

"Likes me?!"

Killua couldn't stay sitting. He stood up and took his empty glass to the faucet for a refill. Alluka's voice followed him.

"Yeah, like, what dude sends his friends heart emojis?"

"This dude would, Alluka! If you met him, I promise, you'd understand."

Alluka was looking deeply into the phone's screen, and Killua realized it too late.

"Hey, phone!"

"Okay, okay!" She tossed the phone back. They were both damn lucky neither of them spilled.

"God," he huffed, flopping himself down to the couch. Alluka's grin teased him with whatever was chugging in her devious mind.

"Well, gosh, if you'd just accepted his invitation, I could have met him," Alluka said, with a rising, mocking lilt.

The drawbridge leading inside Killua's heart snapped shut. His mouth clamped up almost as quickly. He looked at his phone, suddenly scared of his own sister's eye contact.

"Oh," she finally said. He heard her set her food down. She shuffled closer, until she was sitting on the floor next to him. He couldn't avoid looking at her.

She looked beautiful, just like their mother. She hated the length of her chin and her neck, even though she rarely shared her insecurities about the way she looked with Killua, because she didn't want to worry him.

"Hey," she stage whispers. "Guess what?"

Killua swallowed. His answer echoed out of a dry mouth.

"What?"

Alluka looked abashed, for a second. Killua sat up straight.

"I like someone, too."

A goofy, collapsing folding of his face turned into a giddy grin.

"Oh yeah?"

Alluka smiled at him, perfect and pretty, but then looked down, shy and hesitant.

"Yeah, and I think he likes me, maybe."

"Well, hopefully you don't have a crush on a total idiot," Killua said. "Because anyone who doesn't think you're a catch is not worth your time."

Alluka giggled, but it was forced.

"You have to say that."

Killua tilted his head. "I don't have to say anything, actually."

Alluka curled into a little ball, wrapping her arms around her knees, and curling in under her chin. Killua's heart softened beyond recognition.

"Does he..."

Alluka interrupted.

"Know I'm trans?"

Killua nodded.

Alluka gave him a wry smile.

"I hope that he figured that out, since we met at my club's mixer."

Alluka, of course, was the president of her school's LGBTQ student org. Killua's heart swelled up, ready to burst at the tiniest pinprick, at the thought of his little sister dressed up, ready to break hearts, and having her heart handed to her by some snot nosed little man.

"I swear to God, or the devil, or whoever, if I have to, I will buy piano wire and a shovel."

Alluka laughed, genuine with the surprise of it.

"No thanks, you couldn't hurt a fly, let alone kill someone, bro."

Killua mumbled, something about born killer, and ready to ruin, but Alluka just kept laughing, and sat up. She pulled him into her arms for a quick hug.

"I love you," Alluka said. Killua almost hiccuped.

"I love you, too," he replied, hugging her back, tight and quick. She wriggled out of his arms, and took a deep breath.

"Good."

Killua laughed.

"Good!"

She stood up, and bent over to grab her food. He watched her wander over to the kitchen, grabbing a Tupperware for her leftovers. Something tight   
wrapped around his chest loosened. He exhaled for as long as he could stand.

The comfortable, noisy drone of an apartment with company over made Killua suddenly feel warm and drowsy, and the noodles he'd just inhaled didn't hurt.

That was when Alluka's voice, normally resonant and purposeful, cracked and crawled out of her.

"Did Fumi know?"

He wanted to compress himself into the densest version of himself, thin and heavy, ready to sink down through the cracks of the sofa, down through the floor, straight to the center of the planet.

He'd compress into charcoal, and light himself on fire with memories of Alluka trying on Fumi's blouses, Fumi teaching her to put on makeup, Fumi grabbing his hand and squeezing, insisting that they needed to get her out of her parents house, not some day, but today. This very, very day.

"Probably," Killua whispered, voice constricted, heart heavy.

"Probably?" Alluka replied, shrill and a little unkind. "Probably."

Killua tucked his head down. He pressed his face into his knees, until his nose bent, painfully, against the bone.

"Thanks for dinner, Killua," Alluka said, behind his back. "I need to go to bed, since I'll have to head back to campus tomorrow."

He'd have given her a ride, of course, but he knew she would just march out of the apartment early the next morning with earbuds doing their best to ruin her healthy hearing.

"Okay," Killua choked out, even though she probably couldn't hear. He gave her a moment to disappear into the darkness of the bedroom before he stood up, starting to clean up after the relaxing, numbing avoidance of most of their weekend.

It was one of the default dings, actually, just a trio of tinkly, digital notes.

Killua took two long, skipping steps over to his phone. He rushed, as if he didn't already know who had just messaged him.

"i need ur address"

Before Killua could even open the keyboard, another trio of noises.

"please"

"emergency"

There was a bass drum pounding in Killua's ears, and a heat rash spreading over his cheeks and down his neck. It didn't even occur to him to worry this was a weird or dangerous idea. He was actually more surprised Gon didn't know where he lived, yet. He sent over the address, and sat on the couch. Both hands gripped his phone as if were a relic he need to pray over.

It probably took longer than it seemed before he heard the hesitant, but loud, trio of knocks on the door. That's probably why Killua startled at the sound, nearly dropping his phone.

He must have floated over to the door, because he couldn't remember walking there.

"Gon?" Killua asked, quietly, as he swung the door open.

"Killua?"

Gon's voice carried far because it was so resonant and deep, but he wasn't even really trying to be quiet. Killua instinctively lifted his pointer finger to his lips, worried about bothering Alluka.

Gon looked back at him, bigger eyes growing bigger, his cheekbones rising and falling with each panting breath. He mirrored Killua's gesture, bringing his own finger to his lips.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Alluka whispered at him urgently.

"Is everything okay?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, do you have company?" Gon asked, sounding almost on the edge of panic.

"Huh?" Killua replied, truly confused. He looked behind, to see Alluka's head shyly poking out. "Oh, that's my sister."

"Oh," Gon said, and then he let out a big sigh of relief. "I know this is sudden, but can I come in?"

Killua shuffled backwards, nodding. Gon stepped inside, dusted with snow, and wearing a totally inadequate coat with tennis shoes.

"You said it was an emergency?" Killua asked, closing the door behind Gon, who was carefully tapping the snow off his shoes before slipping them off.

"Killua, are you okay?" asked Alluka, walking up from behind. 

It reminded Killua at once of that first night he had met Gon. Something lit Gon's smile from within. He moved past Killua with a sweeping step, and extended one gloved hand.

"It's so great to finally meet you, Alluka. I've heard so much about you."

"Oh God," Alluka said, voice creaking with nerves as she took his hand. "That makes me nervous."

"No," Gon said, looking at Killua while he said that. "Killua loves you so much, and thinks the world of you. You're lucky."

Alluka paused for a minute, swept up with the same energy Killua had experienced that first night, probably. Her eyes bugged, a little, with surprise, and maybe some awe. She laughed.

"I guess so, yeah."

Gon laughed, too.

"Sorry for intruding on your Thanksgiving weekend."

Alluka shook her head, and took her hand back, folding her hands under her armpits.

"It's fine, I've been dying to meet Killua's new best friend," Alluka said, a chipper edge that was more like chipped ice to her voice. Gon missed that, though, as he looked over at Killua with a happy blush.

"Aw, well, yeah, here I am."

Killua cleared his throat as he stepped between the two, guiding them both into the living room.

Gon followed, taking off his coat and slinging it over his arm. He looked a little too precious, like he was being asked to step into a china shop, and he was the bull. Killua looked around at the discarded take out container and unfolded blankets. He spoke a little too loudly.

"So, what's up?"

Gon took a seat on the folding chair, and Alluka sat on the couch. Killua stayed standing, wishing he could stay calm and cool with his arms folded just like Alluka's, but instead bounced from one foot to the other.

"Well, I was just visiting Mito for Thanksgiving, and she told me..."

Gon stopped, trying to conjure up the next word, but it wasn't coming to him. He reached inside his jacket to some hidden pocket. He pulled out a sheet of paper clearly folded, refolded, and refolded again, to the point where it was nearly falling apart. Killua grabbed it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.

"She was served this earlier in the month, or something, and she didn't tell me about it, but..."

Killua only half listened, though, as he felt himself slip into his other self, and his training and education kicked into gear.

"They want to condemn your Aunt's bar," Killua said. Alluka looked at him, concerned.

"Like, they want to close it down?"

"Something like that," Gon explained.

Killua jammed the heel of his hand into his eye as he handed Gon back his document.

"Sort of," Killua said, carefully. "Basically, they want to widen the main thoroughfare in town, and the only way they can do that is to knock down that building."

"Oh, no," Alluka said. Gon grumbled, and it was now clear how exhausted he must have been.

"They said," Gon said, carefully refolding the document, and holding it with both hands. "They said they would pay her for it, since she owns it, and everything, but what they want to pay her isn't anywhere near enough for her to start a new business. Plus, she lives over the shop. It's just..."

"Did you hope Killua would be able to help, because he's a lawyer?" Alluka asked, voicing without hesitation the awkward truth. Gon's mouth gaped open at them, before it shut on its hinge with a snap. He gave a rueful laugh.

"I didn't know where else to even start."

"I can't..." Killua started. He pulled out his phone. He didn't turn it on, but readied his thumb over the power button. "It wouldn't be appropriate for me to give advice, or anything."

Gon frowned, and nodded, but Alluka scrunched her eyebrows together. The same sharp tone returned as she spoke.

"Why not? This is really important."

"Yeah," Killua agreed, his own voice turning a little sharp, too. "Yeah, I know it is, that's why I can't..."

Alluka turned towards Gon with a quick flick of her head.

"Right, Gon? This is really important, isn't it?"

Gon lifted the letter to his lips, brushing it over his mouth in a nervous gesture.

"Yes, it is."

Killua's stomach dropped. It made his head spin. He took a seat next to Alluka, and pressed his knuckle against his forehead.

The scene's unreality began to sink in under Killua's eyelids. A drip, drip of uncertainty started welling up in his head. The low light of the room, with the bedroom's bright overhead light on, combining with the kitchen's weak light, and the only light in the living room the blue light of the TV. He couldn't focus his eyes, darting them between the slip of paper in Gon's hands, to Alluka's bouncing knee, to his feet in dirty socks he hadn't changed for three days.

"I just..." Killua looked down at his phone again.

He knew what he had to do.

"I can't do it, but I know someone who can help. I can call him on Monday, okay? I'll text him right now to tell him to watch for my call."

Alluka gave a little cheer, and Gon exhaled. Killua could barely focus on his phone, but muscle memory took charge as he entered his unlock code, and pulled up his phone's contact list.

It was easy to find the name, starred and topping his list.

Alluka's polite small talk with Gon warmly filled the apartment as Killua's mouth tasted hot like blood, and his stomach sank farther down inside of him, colder and colder.

"Got a favor to ask, can we talk tmrw?"

Killua powered his phone off, and closed his eyes. Alluka had stood up to get Gon something from the kitchen. His eyes met Gon's. Gon smiled at him, and he smiled back, a little, from the tiny, genuine part of him inside that wasn't a freezing, stinging riot of emotion.

He did not expect the message chime. Clearly, because Killua dropped his phone. He just barely dodged ramming into Gon as he dove to pick it up for him. Gon looked up, still smiling, before sitting on the floor near Killua's feet. Killua noted the red rims around Gon's eyes, and the raw skin of his nose.

Killua looked at his phone. The reply to his message had been nearly instantaneous.

"This is a surprise. Of course, I'll be at work early tomorrow. See you."

"Bad answer?" Gon asked. Killua looked from his phone to Gon's face. Gon wasn't quite frowning at him, but the concern was apparent on the even line of his mouth and furrowed brow. Not concern for himself, Killua was somehow sure, but worry he'd asked too much of Killua.

"No, I just will have to wait for Monday so I can get some advice in person, if that's okay?"

Gon's look of concern went sideways, almost, as he gave Killua a remarkably handsome, lopsided grin.

"Of course that's okay. That's more than I should even expect."

"No, that's not true, I do want to help. Really. I just have to be careful about giving legal advice to my friends, you know?" Killua said. He slipped the phone into his pocket. Alluka had headed back to them with two glasses in her hands. He saw the clock behind her head, and realized how time had gotten away from him.

"Oh, yeah," Gon replied. "Friends. That makes sense!"

The confused hesitance in Gon's voice seems to indicate that maybe it doesn't make much sense to him at all.

"Here you go, Gon," Alluka said, handing him a nearly overflowing glass of ice water. Gon thanked her, and clung to the glass like it was precious treasure, taking tiny sips, with a satisfied gasp between each one.

Something about this made Killua's brain itch. He looked over at the entryway. Gon's coat was not right for the weather, a sudden burst of snow storms over the last 48 hours, but those shoes were completely caked in salt, snow and mud.

"Gon, how'd you get to my place?"

Gon saw Killua looking, and turned his head around to look, too. He gave a bashful laugh.

"I had to walk from the Greyhound station. That's how I got home. No one was able to give me a ride."

Well, that finally explained somethings.

"Do you not have your own car?" Killua asked. Alluka gave him a gentle poke with her elbow for asking. Gon set his glass down, and shook his head.

"I can't drive right now, yeah. Mito drove down to take me home for Thanksgiving, but I wanted to rush back as quick as I could when she gave me the news about the bar."

"Aw, gosh, Gon, you're a great nephew," Alluka said.

"Not really," Gon explained. "If I were, she'd have told me about it weeks ago, when she first got the letter. I had to ask around half the town to get the scoop on what was upsetting her so much."

Maybe it was the time, maybe it was the sudden coming together of his two worlds, with Alluka and Gon chatting as easily as if they'd been friends longer than Killua and Gon had, but Killua was suddenly standing on the raw edge of either falling straight away to sleep, or snapping at both of them to stop talking.

He stood up.

"Alright, so let me give you a ride back to your place."

Gon nodded, took the glass up to his mouth to gulp down the rest of the water, and handed it back to Alluka with a second, very polite thank you.

Alluka looked exactly as smitten as every other member of their grief support group whenever Gon wandered in from the cold.

Killua did not want to think how he looked when Gon wandered in from the cold tonight.

"Thanks, Killua. Can I use your restroom first?"

"Sure," Killua said, pointing down the other end of the hallway from the entrance as he moved to grab his own coat and shoes. Gon stepped away. Alluka sidled up behind him.

"So, you gonna ask what the heart thing was all about?"

Killua turned away from her teasing face.

"Thought you were mad at me."

He could feel her fall silent. She crossed her arms.

"I just," Alluka started. She didn't finish. She stepped away from him as he spread his arms to slide on his coat. "Listen, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Killua said. "I get it."

Alluka shook her head.

"No, you don't."

Killua couldn't listen to this. He couldn't handle seeing Gon again, and trying to reconcile what must be Alluka's ever growing disgust with him. He couldn't do it, so he wasn't going to. He said nothing.

"No, Killua, listen. Please."

He didn't turn back to her, but he stopped moving, giving her a moment to continue.

"He seems really nice. I'm glad I got to meet him."

Killua looked back at her, nose and forehead wrinkling.

"That's all?"

Alluka nodded.

The bathroom door creaked open.

"Thanks for your guys' patience," Gon said. "Alluka, it was really nice to meet you." He extended his hand. She looked at it, with a twitch of a grin blooming on her lips. He looked at his hand, too.

"Ah, no, it's clean! I just didn't dry it so good..."

Gon swung his hand down to wipe on his pants. On cue, and in unison, Killua and Alluka burst out laughing. Their laugh always had the same rhythm. Even Gon had to join in.

Alluka eventually reached down for Gon's hand. She shook it herself.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Gon. I hope you can come hang out with us again, for reals."

Gon looked genuinely taken aback by her invitation.

"Oh, gosh, I'd love to. Thanks."

Killua grunted impatiently. Gon waved, and Alluka shrugged. They headed out the door as Alluka headed back to her room. Killua knew he'd come back to her asleep, so he turned off all the lights, and made triple checks on the door's lock.

The duo trudged quietly to the parking lot. The apartment building still murmured with the sounds of families and couples and televisions, but it was a quiet, safe sound. Neither of them wanted to disturb it with small talk.

It was much colder than when Killua had burrowed himself into his apartment at the start of the long weekend. He had to actually zip up his coat. Next to him, Gon's breath puffed out in swirling clouds.

Of course, he knew that Gon was handsome, but it was the way he looked under moonlight, and street lights, golden and half in shadow, that had stayed with him after they would say goodbye. Behind his eyelids. Late at night. Deep in the throes of every day dream.  
Gon's face, shaded and private. Just the two of them, huddled close together to hear and be heard.

"Killua?" Gon asked, hand poised on the handle of the car. Killua hadn't pulled out his keys to unlock it yet.

"Oh, shit, sorry. Spaced out."

Gon shakes his head. "It's okay, I know you must have a lot on your mind."

They climbed inside, and slammed the doors. Killua realized what Gon just said.

"What do you mean?"

Gon looked straight ahead at the dashboard, his long legs knock kneed as he curled himself in to fit in the small car.

"I mean, you must be annoyed at me for interrupting your holiday with your sister."

Annoyance meant wanting something to stop. Feeling burdened by its very existence.

"Annoyed?" Killua asked, though it wasn't really a question.

The only person who was a burden to Killua was Killua, though.

"Well, no, you told me you had an emergency, Gon. I was worried."

"Oh, gosh," Gon said. His voice rasped, like shame made it hard to get the words out. "I'm sorry. I guess that makes sense, but I didn't mean to worry you."

"Yeah, well," Killua said. He started the car, which gave him a moment to focus on that, instead of talking. When they were out of the parking lot, and on the road, Killua glanced at Gon, who looked him square in the face. 

"Well, just, at least I know exactly what to do about this," Killua said, Gon's gaze laying on him, noticeable and heavy with expectations and with worry. 

"I figured you would," Gon said. 

"Hm, well, I mean, I don't know what to do, exactly, this area of law isn't my expertise. But, well, I know someone who does specialize in this."

"Oh yeah?"

Killua tapped his pointer finger against the steering wheel. He'd forgotten the radio, but he still tapped out a rhythm to some song that was playing, incessantly, in the back of his mind. 

A memory of a pounding beat, which always accompanied his memories of this person. 

"Yeah, he's my colleague at the firm," Killua explained.

And.

Naturally, there was an and.

Of course, there was more to the story.

Killua started to drum his other finger. Tip tap, tip tap, both of them alternating. 

Somehow Gon knew, he knew Gon knew. That he was holding out. Gon smiled softly in the corner of Killua's eye, and rubbed his fingers over the top of his other hand, patient and quiet. 

"He's also my ex."

Killua stopped his tapping fingers. He'd curled them around the steering wheel. He was braced against what was certain to be coming. The questions. The accusatory looks. 

"Wow," Gon said. But it was not the "Wow" of someone shocked, startled into speech. Or the long, sarcastic "Wow" of someone finding the recipient failing at some profound social test.

"It's awesome of you that you still don't mind talking to him, for me." 

The grip of Killua's fingers only grew tighter, as his eyebrows inched together. 

"Huh?" 

Killua's surprised utterance resulted only in Gon's surprised reply.

"What?"

Killua had to clear his throat, to force the words to come.

"Really? That's it?"

"What do you mean, Killua?"

As if he had just been handed an invitation to come walk on a minefield, Killua had to laugh at the absurdity. 

"No comment on how I could have a ex-boyfriend?"

Gon half-laughed as he spoke, as humorless as a chill wind through leaves. 

"I mean, lots of people always told me to try dating again after Retz died, and some people act like that's a huge betrayal, but I totally understand it, I think."

"No," Killua said, interrupting, and just barely missing the turn off to Gon's place. "No, I mean, like, how he's...."

"A he?"

"A guy?"

They talked over one another, and then paused. Gon froze, but Killua couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, that."

"Is that weird?" Gon asked, seriously. 

"Isn't it weird?" Killua said. He was ready for this fight, even though it was his choice to bring it up in the first place. Poking into Gon from all angles, until he discovered the fault in the armor plating. The crack in those shiny toothed veneers. 

"I mean, I..." Gon started. Gon did not know how to hesitate, Killua had been certain, so this pause was the most concerning development yet. 

Gon laughed again. Killua shivered, and jammed one hand in between his thighs for warmth. 

"I've never dated a guy, before, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't, you know?"

Killua said nothing. 

Just for a moment, though, because in just the next moment they arrived at their destination. 

"Made it," Killua said. 

"Oh, great, thank you," Gon said. 

The engine idled with an amiable grumble. The vents on the dashboard had only just started to blow out hot air. 

"So, you're gonna talk to your guy?" Gon asked.

"Yeah, tomorrow."

"Anything else I need to do?"

Killua shook his head. 

"I'll let you know when I find out more. Maybe we can meet after group?"

Gon looked out the dashboard, squinting at something Killua couldn't see. 

"Sure, that works."

"Okay."

Waiting was agonizing, but as soon as the passenger door creaked open, Killua's heart jumped, desperately grasping for something, anything, to force that door closed. Anything to keep him from sitting alone in his hot and cold car, alone with his regret over popping his heart open and splashing the putrid contents all over the front seat.

Gon stepped out of the car. Then, he turned, and bent in half, peering back at Killua with a soft, sleepy look. 

"Thank you so much, Killua. I really owe you. Have a good night, okay?"

"Night."

Gon slammed the door. Killua watched him hike to the apartment building's entrance to make sure he got in safely. 

Gon gave him one last wave before heading inside. 

Killua couldn't get his hands to move to shift into drive until they were so cold they stung as he forced them to bend against the freezing numbness. 

\----

He was the kind of person that doesn't give a first impression as much as a scalding brand. It hissed against the underside of Killua's skin leaving a permanent impression. 

"Oh, him."

Kurapika said that to him, one eyebrow raised, as Killua was introduced as his department's new legal assistant.

"Average resume, really, but I guess his performance in that interview must have been..."

And then those eyes, hazel gray, and unlike any Killua had ever looked into before, swept him, up and down, so visibly and unashamedly, that Killua could feel the goosebumps brushing against his overpriced, under tailored suit. 

"...Something."

Then a sticky sweet smile. 

That brand rubbed up against his muscles, pushing and pushing until a bruise grew on his bones. He needed to prove something to this guy, in a way he hadn't felt the need to prove anything to anyone since he was still training with his brother and father. 

"I look forward to working with you," Killua responded, sticking his hand out. The smile dropped. Kurapika grabbed his hand with a bone cracking vigor Killua didn't expect out of the thin man who seemed to be made of spectral energy rather than flesh and blood. 

"Likewise."

\----

The day he returned to the office, Killua brought a tin of snickerdoodles Alluka had baked, even though he was pretty sure Kurapika didn't even like sweets. Kurapika nibbled one politely over his tan coffee. 

Kurapika held Gon's document between long forefinger and thumb with a mocking delicacy, like it was actually a letter from his doddering great aunt who had gone senile, and kept referring to him as his father's name, rather than an official proclamation from the state.

"This is the only thing they've received, then?"

Killua shrugged.

"I assume so." 

Kurapika flipped the sheet over, even though he should have known full well there was nothing printed on the back. He flipped it over again, before delicately folding it in thirds, and sliding it back in the envelope. He set it on his desk, fingers forming a pink hued scaffolding around the document. 

Some question was being snapped into place in Kurapika's mind, brick after brick. Killua expected it to be hard to answer, but he stammered like a student who didn't bring his homework that day when Kurapika actually asked it. 

"What's so special about this one that you're wasting your time on this?"

Embarrassing as it was, Kurapika broke the silence that followed, turning his eyes from Killua's flushed face, back down to the letter. No matter what else Kurapika had been thinking about, it was undeniable he couldn't shut his brain off from solving this puzzle. 

Killua let his voice drop low, and dry as a bone. 

"I didn't think it'd take you any time at all, that's all. If you're not sure what to do, I can always..."

"Oh, no, I know exactly what you two need to do next," Kurapika said, crisply interrupting him. "I have no time to provide any leg work, of course, because there's plenty to do before the holidays."

"Did you think I wouldn't be paying you your consultation fee?"

Kurapika was now the one left stammering.

"You'll be doing what?"

Killua pulled out the check book he hadn't had cause to use since the last time he went to the DMV. He flipped it open, and started scribbling.

"It's 375 dollars per billable hour, right? Here."

"No, Killua, stop it, I didn't mean that."

Kurapika was actually pleading with him, and for a moment, Killua's heart nearly moved him to stop. But, it was too late. He dropped the check across Kurapika's flattened hands.

"Just let me know what we need to do now, and I'll take care of everything else."

Kurapika slid the envelope towards Killua. He drew the check closer. Killua wondered if he would pick it up, and tear it in half. 

He didn't. He slid it inside the inner pocket of his suit jacket. 

"Understood. Well, if you'll excuse me."

Kurapika stood up. He moved towards the door of the small conference room they'd snuck into in between scheduled meetings. A not unfamiliar setting for their encounters, though previously never with quite this chilled a tone. 

"All right. Thank you, Kurapika."

Kurapika didn't turn back to Killua, but he did nod. He did not say goodbye as he left. He just said this.

"I wasn't the one who stopped answering your calls, Killua."

\---- 

It had been Killua who had started making the calls, and Killua who had ended them. 

It couldn't possibly have been the case that Kurapika really meant for Killua to call him if he ever needed any support in this field, or anything at all, whispered solemnly at him over drinks poured from Kurapika's brandy stash in his bottom desk drawer when Killua had helped him on his third all nighter in a month, finishing the preparations for the biggest case in the firm's history. 

And, yet, two weeks later, Killua was alone in the darkness of his bedroom, Fumi in the hospital again for the third or fourth time that year, and he needed to hear a real, objective opinion. The phone glowed to a blinding brightness as he typed in Kurapika’s name. 

"I think you're right, Killua, as painful as it is. She probably needs to ask to go on medical leave. At least for right now."

"Right?" Killua said, snapping himself up into a sitting position like one of those slap bracelets. "It doesn't mean she can't pick it up again."

He'd never spoken about this with anyone but Fumi, or Alluka. And Alluka was firmly on Fumi's side. 

"I would never, ever quit school, Killua. I'd rather die," Fumi said, not just with her normal blunt tone, but really, genuinely upset.

Just remembering her say that made him want to spit fire. 

"Thanks, I knew you'd help me see this more clearly."

"Of course, I'm honored you would ask me." 

There had always been shadows cast from Kurapika's brilliance. His perfectly groomed self, his golden hair, and fair skin. It was clear from his eyes he'd had to carry more than anyone should be asked to.

Killua had to ask.

"What am I supposed to do?"

Kurapika was quiet, for a long time, truly considering what to say. Killua held his breath.

"Remember that you will not have enough time to do everything you wish you could, so find what matters to you most, now, and seek it out before you lose it forever." 

He went to bed that night, in the bed he shared with Fumi, and slept. He could not remember what he dreamt that night, but he woke up with her name on his lips, ready to call her and wish her a good morning. 

Later that night, he called Kurapika again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how my readers are the best? I am unworthy. <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first brand new chapter! It's also cross posted on my blog.

"Basically, you'd need to head back to the county seat, and find some documents for me there. If you can do that, I can start working on the next step."

Killua stood outside his firm on his lunch break, heart pounding as he rang Gon's number, hoping he'd actually reach the man instead of voicemail.

"Oh," Gon said, flatly.

It flooded him like a tidal wave, sweeping back first to leave nothing, then sweeping back in to drown him in disappointment.

"Oh?"

As if he'd somehow let Gon down. He ground his teeth together.

"I don't think I can make it out there, is all," Gon explained. "Not for a few weeks at least."

It had been staring Killua in the face for weeks, but he suddenly understood.

"You can't drive, can you?"

Gon sounded genuinely surprised.

"How'd you figure it out?"

The laugh popped out of Killua like a hiccup.

"Gon, you always get a ride from me home from group. You clearly walk everywhere you go. It wasn't exactly a mystery."

All Gon replied with was a harrumph. Killua couldn't stop laughing.

"I can drive," Gon finally said, loudly, trying to interrupt Killua's delight. "I just can't right now."

"Well, you don't have a car, right?"

"True," Gon said.

Killua tapped his toe and looked at his watch. He needed to get back to work.

"Will you be at group tomorrow night?"

"I'm planning on it," Gon said. "Why?"

"We can meet after and talk about next steps, if you want."

"Oh, huh," Gon said, as if Killua had just mentioned something to him baffling. "We could, I suppose. But, I was kinda hoping we could go to the gym together afterwards."

The crunch of time slowed his reaction speed. Killua didn't quite know what to say, and he realized after he hung up how little any of what Gon was suggesting made sense to him. All he said before ending the call was, "Sure. Well, see you tomorrow, dude."

The rest of the afternoon found Killua tapping away aimlessly at his computer, distracted and unfocused, as he found himself worrying about an invisible world behind some distant, imaginary gate that he was planning to climb over. He didn't know if he would find paradise, or the pit, on the other side.

\----

It was Killua who was late to group, this time. He hated being late more than anything. 

Punctuality was non-negotiable for a Zoldyck. He'd dread running late to practice with a piercing, throbbing ache in his gut, preparing himself mentally for the nausea he'd experience after the extra hundred laps his brother would make him run. His belly echoed in his ears like the surf crashing against a shore.

"...learning to let the feelings happen, and not push... Ah, Killua, we're glad you could join us. Please, feel free to take a seat."

June pointed to an empty area of the circle. He could see Gon's wave from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't bring himself to draw more attention to himself by returning it. He took a seat avoiding any eye contact.

"Here, please pass Killua a worksheet," June said, handing the person in the seat nearest her a stapled packet of paper. They swept from hand to hand as June kept talking.

"As I was saying, there's an old canard in therapy. 'What you resist, persists.'"

The packet finally reached Killua's hands. A cartoony human figure with a large, round head had a frown on its face. One out of proportion, awkwardly drawn, freely floating hand pointed up to that face.

"What is mindfulness?"

Little thought bubbles popped out from this same figure over and over throughout the course of the worksheets. Angry faces, crying faces, scared faces.

"A way that we can learn to better manage emotional states is to, in a sense, stop trying to manage them at all. Instead, the goal is to accept them as a current reality, but not a permanent one."

Killua was, admittedly, not trying very hard to understand the pages in front of him. But, even for June's standards, this was opaque.

Sometimes, the figure would be in clear distress, and the thought bubbles would seem to swirl around him, blurry lines copied many, many times over wiggling on the page.

"Negative emotions, just like positive emotions, are a part of life. We can't have positive emotions if we don't also allow space for negative emotions."

A tempting question billowed up inside Killua's lungs, not unlike the sensation he'd experienced in school when one of his classmates said something embarrassingly stupid, and he needed to shoot his arm up to the sky and correct them.

"Squashing down negative emotions is tempting. We are naturally averse to pain. However, it is impossible to squash bad emotions, and leave intact positive ones."

"Excuse me."

Unsurprisingly, it was Gon who had piped up. June nodded at him to continue.

"It sounds like you're saying that the only way we can be happy is to be sad."

June shrunk while her voice grew noticeably louder.

"That's not at all what I'm saying. The point of this practice is to accept that sadness is a part of life, just like happiness is. They will be happen from time to time, but resisting sadness will force you to resist happiness, as well."

Killua had to admit how useful it could be to have someone around willing to stick his neck out, and ask the questions that put the lie to "There's no such thing as a dumb question."

Another group member raised her hand. A little bit younger than the average, she had mousy brown hair pulled back, with wisps of gray falling around her face like a lacy curtain. She spoke softly and carefully.

"In therapy, we talk about how it's not possible to grieve if you haven't loved. The greater the positive emotions you felt towards your loved one, the more loss you will experience when they die."

June, as always, seemed the most relieved when the topic could circle back to suffering.

"That's precisely right, Jaime. Grief grows to fit the size of our love. And just like sadness is inevitable, so is death."

Gon caught Killua's gaze with his own arresting pair of deep, brown eyes. He seemed almost as if he were fighting back some anger or frustration, and sought Killua's assistance. Killua wondered if Gon still wanted to raise his hand. Killua could only shrug a tiny bit with one shoulder in response. Gon's shoulders curled down as he crossed his arms.

"Let's practice a way to invite in those moments of sadness and longing. Everyone, close your eyes."

June always closed her eyes.

"Picture a flowing, gentle stream."

Killua did not close his eyes.

"Imagine the stream flowing through your mind."

Gon's eyes closed, just for a moment, and then blinked open. When their eyes meet, Gon face splits wide open, transforming from grim into a huge grin.

"Each thought that enters your mind is a leaf floating on the water."

A giddy whim floated along inside of Killua's mind. He resisted the urge to giggle as he raised on hand, palm flat and parallel to the floor.

"Each thought drifts onto the water's surface."

June whispered with an unusually loud, arresting voice. Her voice brushed over them, attempting soothing but succeeding at ticklish.

Wiggling his fingers all at once, Killua floated his hand along the stream he imagined in the air in front of him.

"The don't try and stop the thoughts."

Killua floated his hand back and forth, holding his face serenely still. June paused to allow her words to sink in. As she did, Killua held up his other hand, stopping the floating hand mid air. 

With a serious expression, he shook his head at Gon. He pulled the obstructing hand away slowly.

"Just acknowledge them."

Gon clapped his hands over his mouth, shoulders shaking with poorly contained mirth. Killua had to choke down his own giggles as he frowned with exaggerated severity, and nodded at his own hand.

"Tell the thoughts 'I see you, and acknowledge you, but I'm going to let you pass me by.'"

The finger waggle was what finally broke Gon. It wasn't a laugh, or it was, but he morphed it violently into a coughing fit. The squeak of his chair's feet shoved against the linoleum almost broke Killua.

June's eyes flew open. She looked basically terrified as Gon stumbled towards the restrooms.

Her eyes flew straight towards Killua, who hurled his arms down, until his fingers curled around the bottom of his thighs, like a child caught reaching up for the cookie jar.

There was a long moment of composure lost, but June brought herself back together as best she could.

"Take a few deep breaths, and bring yourself back to the circle when you're ready."

Killua closed his eyes. It was only for a moment. He just pretended like he had been playing along. As he filled his lungs, he was surprised by how quiet it was just to hear himself breath. As he exhaled, he imagined something like cigarette smoke emptying out of his mouth. When he opened his eyes back up, he didn't pretend to be doing anything else but going to meet Gon in the hallway.

Leaning against the wall, looking at his phone with a far away look, Gon startled when Killua tiptoed through the door into the hallway to meet him.

"Ah, I'm sorry, you were just..."

Killua shook his head. He reached for the sleeve of Gon's jacket.

"Let's just get out of here."

Gon replies with a wordless mumble, and by looking down at where hand and fabric are joined.

"Okay," Gon said.

There was a side entrance through the hall that looked like it was probably supposed to be locked. It was silent as they opened. If it caught anyone's attention as they left, neither of them noticed.

\----

It was too much to ask his body to sit perched on a plastic chair, letting emotions churn through like rotten leaves, like trash and plastic water bottles, like oil floating in slicks at the top of the scummy water.

Killua knew only one way to dispose of the detritus, scooping up what was inside with the same open hands, the same way he could sweep his arms up and over his head, and tumble forward, landing with a familiar, painful smack to the mat.

They had asked him to close his eyes, and open his mind's eye, and look inwards. But, it was too dark to see, inside. It was dark for a reason.

His brother gave him some advice, once. Killua had twisted his ankle, and it hurt so much he couldn't bear weight on it. 

"When something else hurts you, you can just hurt yourself even more."

Killua had begun to understand that Illumi could not be trusted, but Killua had not grown old enough yet to trust himself to question what he was being told. 

"What do you mean?"

Illumi gestured, so Killua lifted his hand up above his lap. Illumi grabbed it. Quicker than Killua could cry and pull his hand back, Illumi had wrenched Killua's finger back, back, until his knuckle almost brushed the back of his hand. 

It would have done no good for Killua to cry out in pain, even if it hadn't already been his habit to stay quiet, as Illumi spoke calmly over him.

"See? Your ankle hurts less now, doesn't it?"

Illumi was right. 

Hurting yourself hurts less than when other people do it. 

\----

The pair couldn't shake their giggles. They drove through the dark, thickened with snow and sleet, but Killua’s eyes were dazzled like he was looking at midsummer light bouncing off store windows.

"Ready!?" Killua shouted, when he parked the car. Gon just gave a wordless hoot of agreement. 

They bounded through the now gathering snow drifts. Snow slipped over the top of Killua's weather inappropriate flat tops. He couldn't even be bothered to notice.

Piling through the doors to the gym, elbows flying, it was giddy and surprisingly warm. Somehow it didn't seem crazy that Gon shed his jeans, leaving nothing but his boxers on, because meanwhile Killua nearly tore off his tie, tripping over his slacks, down to his undershirt and boxer briefs.

Gon ran as he turned on the bright, flooding ceiling lamps. It was cold in the room, but that wouldn't matter at all soon. Gon jumped on the first platform for the recently reorganized route of obstacles. They were farther apart, the speed and accuracy needed more intense than ever. Gon swallowed the lengths of them with his long, loping steps.

Falling into pace behind him, Killua hopped, dashed, and scaled. He was a pot boiling over, the flame hissing and jumping beneath his feet. He seemed to only gain more and more speed and energy. He started off exuberant, but as his breathing turned to strained burning, while his muscles rippled with tension and pain, it stopped being fun.

But that didn't stop Killua from pushing himself farther, and farther. He went faster, until he could barely register his successes or failures. Even when launched himself at an obstacle, and failed to grip it, splattering to the floor like so much spilled milk, he just stood up immediately, circled around, and started the route all over again.

Gon must have hopped off the equipment at some point, but Killua didn't notice anything until the blast of chilly air almost knocked him on his ass. He looked over to see Gon closing the door after peeking outside. Snow blew inside, slicking the floor by the door. Gon looked over at him, expressionless, before walking out of the gym towards the dark corridor that led to the bathroom and makeshift locker room.

There was hardly any real time to pay him any mind. Once Killua reentered the room he'd once locked in his mind and left to go to dust, curtains were thrown back and the gym's flood of fluorescent lights shined in. He wanted to stay in there, now that he was there again. It was bare and painful, but it was easy. He didn't any choices left to make. He just had to keep moving, jogging in place, the walls bare and uninteresting, with nothing else worth looking at, anyway.

"The weather is really bad," Gon said, and Killua heard him through the wall, Gon shouting from the other room. Killua vaguely remembered the weather report from earlier in the day. He was too winded to answer, so he didn't.

Silence prompted Gon to poke his head out from the other room. He repeated himself, louder. Killua saw a hand cupped around Gon's mouth, as if he was hollering at a fellow camper from across the creek.

"So?!" Killua huffed back, sounding winded and irritated by the interruption. He had slowed himself, though hadn't stopped, having finished the circuit and heading back for another go.

"I'm worried about you!"

"Why?!" Killua answered. Gon shook his head as he wandered back over to the door outside.

"Come see," Gon said, waving. Killua jogged over. He stopped on the other side of the door, which Gon slowly shoved open.

The snow blew fully parallel with the ground. The biting snap of cold was also wet and miserable, coating Killua's face with a shivering mist. There were already huge, growing dunes of snow piled against Killua's car.

"Holy shit," Killua exclaimed, yanking on the door against the wind, as it threatened to slap wide open in the wind. Gon joined in, and the door crashed shut with a startling clank.

Only the large fan swirling in the air above, and the freezing whoosh of wind outside made any sound. Killua's breathing was still a gasping pant, but he did it as quietly as he could. He met Gon's eyes. Gon looked apologetic, as if the snow was somehow his fault.

"You said you were worried about me," Killua asked. Gon nodded. Killua shrugged one shoulder in the direction of the door. "What about you? Wasn't I your ride?"

Gon shrugged both shoulders. "I've slept here before."

How could Killua be surprised by that? He realized immediately he shouldn't be. All he could do is chuckle.

"Just flopped on the mat after you worked yourself to exhaustion?"

Gon's eyes narrowed. He gave Killua a half smile.

"Of course not. Here, I'll show you."

Gon reached out, brushed his hand over Killua's wrist, imploring him to follow. Killua did it, unquestioningly.

They ventured into the dark, unfinished hallway leading to the one stall bathroom, with anxiety, but working, fixtures. Killua had made use of them, before, but never ventured further, because, to put it frankly, Killua was fairly sure a hockey mask wearing psychopath was lying in wait to take him out with a rusty chain saw.

Gon, though, ventured forward fearlessly. The end of the hall were two, wide doors, rusty and heavy on their hinges. Gon opened both doors with an undeniable flourish.

Soft red light cast hazy shadows along the floor. Red and white twinkly lights vined around the ceiling, before gathering behind a long, red velvet, overstuffed couch. There were a few stray blankets, pillows, lamps, and a foot stool.

Gon stepped inside. Killua tip toed behind, a warm and quiet atmosphere pressing into his nostrils, shoving the air back down his throat, till his chest was overfull. Gon stood in front of the couch, looking abashed, but with a quirk of a smile on his lips. His eyes were shiny brass buttons.

"It's not much, but I have this couch if you just wanted to wait out the storm."

The competition between every answer Killua could have provided turned knock down and drag out in his head, a stress headache blooming behind his eyes, but the last man standing was just a simple, "Yeah."

Gon lit up from the inside, looking like Christmas lights seen through an open curtain. He shuffled around the room, place to place, lighting lamps, adjusting pillows, and smoothing down the crushed velvet with his hands. Killua looped his eyes around the room. He saw another pair of shoes, the same boots Gon wore holes into every day, and another jacket hung up on the wall.

"It's like your home away from home."

Gon didn't look at Killua, even as Killua stepped closer. It was definitely evasive.

"Well, I sleep here a lot."

That much was clear.

"You're a regular puzzle, Gon Freecs," Killua said, softly, sitting down on the couch. He realized he was avoiding Gon's eye contact as much as Gon was avoiding his.

He realized it wasn't regular at all.

The couch was so plush he sank into it, so far his thighs were almost pushed up to his chest. He braced himself against the arm.

"Hungry?" Gon asked, and then didn't wait for the answer before he pulled a bag of chips out from some shelf hidden on the far end of the couch. He tossed the bag at Killua, who caught it with an explosive crunch. The bag popped open, but the mess was minimal, and the scent of grease and salt made Killua's mouth water ravenously. He shoved his hand in, dead to anything but the sensation of sharp, almost painful fried potatoes sliding down his throat.

"I guess so," Gon said, answering himself. Killua looked up, and saw Gon holding two brown beer bottles, their bottle caps already off. They dripped with condensation.

"Yes, please," Killua said, reaching out one hand with a gimme motion. Gon slapped it into Killua's palm. He might as well have shoved an icicle into Killua's hand.

"Jesus, dude," Killua said, "It's fucking freezing." His voice was admiring, and the icy beer followed his salty snack like perfect, angels-singing-in-unison harmony.

Gon held his bottle between both hands, like a nervous MC with a microphone. He smiled, a bit.

"Don't need a fridge when you can just stick the beer out in the freezing cold."

"Genius," Killua said, through a full, slurping mouth.

It wasn't regular, but that didn't mean this didn't feel spectacularly normal. Gon took small sips from his bottle. Killua downed the entire bag, and Gon didn't say anything. Killua, secretly, appreciated not having to share, but couldn't help asking.

"Not hungry?"

Gon shook his head. Killua set the bag down, finished his beer, and sighed.

"Makes me think of the snow days I never actually got, as a kid, but they sure would have been fun," Killua said.

Gon's smile finally widened a bit. "No snow days? Really?"

"Not really," Killua said, with a single shoulder shrug. "Even if the weather was bad, it just meant more time in the gym. Sometimes, I think my dad even fought with my mom about taking me out of school more to train, especially before big events."

Even though Gon was smiling, it stopped just short of his eyes. 

"You didn't get to have much fun as a kid, huh?" Gon said. He still sat carefully leaning over his knees, with the beer bottle gripped in his hands, while Killua sank further into the couch. As soon as Killua tipped his head back to rest against the couch, he couldn't see Gon's face at all. Just his hunched shoulders. 

"I guess not," Killua said. He shrugged for no one's benefit, really. He took another drink. Gon did not.

"It doesn't seem like you were having much fun tonight," Gon said, quickly, like he'd grabbed the line and needed to shove it out quickly before it escaped to hide under the bed. 

Skin prickled and his fingers tightened before Killua could even formulate a thought in response to that. It wasn't an accusation, even though it was direct and observant. It was a sincere probe. It throttled Killua's nerves like a cattle prod to the neck. 

"What do you care?" Killua snapped, setting the bottle on the floor on the far side of the couch. He wasn't buzzed, or even close, but his head vibrated and heat surged through his limbs. 

"Jeesh," Gon said, but it was abashed, quiet. Ashamed. "I thought we were supposed to be having fun, I guess." 

Killua clucked his tongue. 

"I thought you wanted to win," Killua said. "Why else do you work so hard you have a crash pad in the back of your gym?"

Gon leaned back, so heavy the cushions of the couch dipped in, creating a slope that Killua had to flex nonchalantly to avoid slipping down. 

"I also try to have fun, you know?" Gon said. "Why else?"

Killua saw a sliver of space between his right knee and Gon's left. He turned to look at Gon, who turned to look at him. Gon's face was flushed with red. He looked like a statue come to life. It could have been blushing, booze flushing his cheeks, cold, or a fever. It could have just been the lights. Killua knew he was red, too, and he knew for him it wasn't just the lights. 

"You said you had a dream. That you were doing all of this for a reason."

Gon's far arm swept up. He buried his fingers in his thick hair, tugging absently as he answered. 

"I mean, sure, but that doesn't mean I want to make you miserable trying to help me," Gon said. Killua's eyebrows quirked up.

"Miserable?" 

"Sometimes..." Gon said, eyes magnetic, golden, flashing, Killua's gaze tractor beamed in. "...when you're here, practicing, you look so focused, it's like you're not here. It's like I'm not here. Like you're astral projecting or something."

The words were enough to make Killua realize it, the sensation like he'd felt today. Back in time. Back in that old groove. Familiar welts on his hands. Familiar jolting pain through his knee, into his hips, piercing his back. 

Gentle. Nothing like that pain. Anathema to everything Killua had learned. To the pain of his efforts. To the suffering that was due. 

It was Gon's eyes, holding his gaze gently. Not at all angry, which Killua realized was his fear. 

"I'm not..." Killua started. Gon's lips parted, just a touch. Gon nodded. Killua continued, fists tight at his side, arms coiled like springs. 

"I'm not miserable. At all. I like being here. A lot."

Maybe this was how dragons learned to breathe fire. Admitting the most embarrassing, belly-baring truths. 

"It's been the best thing to happen to me in...a very long time."

Gon smiled and smiled, eyes and face and lips. 

"I..." Killua said. When he lifted his hands to his face, and realized he was smiling, too, he couldn't hold back. "I like you, Gon." 

"I like you, too, Killua!" 

Wasn't it supposed to hurt?

"Gon?"

That's what he knew how to do. Accept pain as his due. To dive into it, headfirst, a freezing cold reality. It was sharp, and it blinded him. Dulled his hearing, and left him too numb to feel. 

"Killua?"

He unclenched his fist. His hand looked blood stained as it swept in front of him, taking in the room in a dramatic and theatrical gesture. 

"What is all this, Gon?" 

The heartbeat pause, the shifting glance left, said so much more than Gon's feeble reply.

"What do you mean?"

If it was worth it, it had to hurt. Only things that hurt were worth it. 

Killua's hand swept back. He used barely the softest press of his knuckle. Brushing it over the glass shard sharp cheekbone. As warm as Gon always looked, there was just no comparison to how he felt to touch. 

It tumbled together, then, like dominoes falling. Like a perfectly executed floor exercise. One acrobatic turn after the other. 

Killua's hand gripped Gon's hair, just as thick, just as rough and pleasurable to run his fingers through as he'd always assumed.

In eager response, Gon's hand cupped Killua's cheek, and his hand was so big, so warm, so strong. It slid down Killua's neck, calluses dragging deliciously down his hot skin. Gon pulled him in, and Killua scrambled to straddle Gon's lap. 

The kiss was not surprising, not really, because Killua hadn't had a night pass in his most recent memory where he didn't imagine it. Would it be soft? Clumsy? Hot? Awkward? Good? Great?

It was not a surprise to feel those careful, hot lips, assertive but patient. Killua kissed back like it was necessary to breathe, necessary to keep his heart beating, and Gon took it all, pulling Killua closer and closer. 

"Did you mean..." Gon said, finally, as they did both break apart, kissing not actually breathing, Killua gasping, Gon too luminous to look at. Killua tucked his chin against Gon's shoulder, looked into the red felt oblivion of the couch. "Did you mean, was tonight me making a move on you?"

Killua nodded, bumping his chin into Gon's shoulder. Gon's fingers drummed against Killua's thigh. Gon laughed, and it was like a volcano erupting underneath him. 

"I've been trying since that first smoke break," Gon said. Killua's hair laced through Gon's fingers. Killua gripped the fabric of the couch. He held his breath. "I guess I just never did a good enough job till now."

Killua leaned back.

"Trapping me in your rumpus room while the snowpocalypse falls around us is desperate even for you, Gon."

Gon grinned. Killua grinned back. Gon's hand cradled the back of Killua's head. He pulled them back together. 

"I can be a lot more desperate than that, Killua."

It wasn't a promise. It was a guarantee. 

Killua let go of the couch. He slipped his fingers underneath the hem of Gon's shirt. 

It wasn't a guarantee of anything, but Gon sighed, relieved all the same, and kissed him, sealing the deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The upper limits of spicy in this chapter. TW: mouth stuff.

It was the first morning after.

They smelled like stale smoke and watered down beer. They both wore thrift store outfits, because it was all they could afford. Killua found a purple suit he was instantly smitten with, and Fumi found a skirt that she could pair with a tuxedo vest.

They danced, took a million photos, nominated themselves for Prom Prince and Princess with a bunch of stolen ballots, and left before the announcement was made.

(They didn't win, but apparently it was only because the scope of their fraud was so abundant and blatant.)

Killua had a key to the training facility locker room. They spent most of the night finishing the pilfered bottle of his father's vodka, Fumi holding it like a champ, Killua glad he didn't have much of the pre-prom Taco Bell feast left in his belly.

Fumi started it, like she started everything. She took Killua's hand. She drew him close. They kissed, more, and Killua was pretty sure he was just too drunk. His lips were too heavy. His tongue was fat and slow. That was why it didn't work, not really. He was just following her lead. But she murmured at him, soft and low and sweet. He'd never heard that before, so he figured he mustn't be doing too badly.

They finished quickly. She kissed him hardest, then, as they lay tangled and covered in drunken, flop sweat.

"I gotta pee."

She stood up, padding barefoot to the bathroom.

He did love her, that's the thing. He loved no one else as much, except for Alluka. He never wanted her to leave him.

He put his clothes back on, straightened his tie, and laid back, to run his fingers along the grout of the tile. It was cold, but it was easy to pick out the lines. It was easy to know where he was going.

\----

It was the second morning after. 

The thrill had been a tight fist in his gut. A slow boil that had spilled everywhere, pants tossed on the couch, and a tie nearly torn with the effort of its removal. It was hot, everywhere they touched was so hot. It was so hot he panted with it, even after, as he lay there next to him.

Kurapika had smiled at him, earlier, asked to "Follow you home?" Killua gulped. He was too smart and too inexperienced to pretend at anything, so he just nodded. 

What had built between them could hardly say to have been built. It was a lean-to against the wind, propped up, with a small, hungry fire sucking up the air beneath it. 

It had never felt like this before. 

Though, it had come close. All of his dreams. Imagining this scenario, or countless others. Shameful, shameless, in the dark corners of his mind. In a closed and dark bedroom, alone. It was close. 

He was delighted, there was no other word for it, by Kurapika's cunning eyes, and his rare, kind smiles. He would not have guessed that his favorite part would have been Kurapika's surprised gasp of delight, or his eyes grown wide with pleasure. 

The sleep was fitful. Killua stood up, multiple times. The twisting sensation in his gut when he saw Kurapika's graceful back draped over his bed sheets made him smile, for a moment, and then he remembered the day he and Fumi had bought those sheets. They Rock-Paper-Scissored for them. He wanted blue. He always wanted blue. She said that was boring. She picked out these goofy bird print sheets. 

Kurapika's blond hair and pale skin looked gorgeous against the brightly abstract splashes of bird-shaped color. 

Without meaning to, Killua's staring woke Kurapika up. 

"Morning," Kurapika purred, softly. Killua would never know exactly what his expression looked like that day, but he did know that Kurapika's eyebrows knit together as he hurriedly sat up, grabbed his clothes, and rushed to the bathroom. 

\----  
A block of solid, chilly light on the floor.

Killua lifted his arm, to see the silhouette shadow of his hand in it.

Gon's hand slid off of Killua's chest, draping off the side of the couch, as Gon snored, once or twice more, into the crook of Killua's neck.

Maybe surprise should have filled him, or mortification, but Gon's skin was warm against his, and Gon rested his chin into the notch in Killua's collarbone like they were made to fit together, so for a full minute, or even two, Killua thought that everything was going to be okay.

"Mmm," Gon moaned, still drifting away on some distant dream. Killua took a huge bite of bottom lip into his mouth. His hand remained lit by the faintly warm light of morning as he brought his fingers up to trace Gon's cheek.

Gon's eyes snapped open.

"Good morning," Gon said, smiling with tight lips and a droop of his eyelids.

"Mornin'," Killua rasped. He couldn't even think about responding before Gon twisted himself and pressed his dry, hot lips to Killua's.

Gon's arms came up and around, until they lay face to face, Gon's weight heavy and undeniable on Killua's body. The memories of his night flushed through his mind in a red, soft, superheated wave, even though they’d didn’t get any farther than breathing each other’s air or holding each other close. 

"How are you?" Gon asked. He really wanted to know, but he wasn't presuming, either.

Killua could either lie to Gon, or he could not.

"I'm good, except for this crick in my neck," Killua said, bending his head into Gon's arm, resting where Gon had rested his face against Killua last night. Gon frowned, just for a moment, before Killua realized and shook his head. Killua smiled, then Gon did, too.

"I'm really good," Gon offered. Killua laughed.

"I know," Killua replied, and he did, because he could feel it. Gon pressed against him, skin warm and vibrating with his blood and enthusiasm, smile growing and growing. Gon wanted to kiss him again, Killua knew it, but Killua beat him to it.

"Think the snow stopped?" Gon asked, when they stopped kissing, which Killua had been in no hurry to do, but Gon's curiosity was more powerful than his other desires.

"It better have, unless you have more chips and beers in reserve behind this flea bag couch?"

Gon shook his head. "I'm so hungry, actually."

"Fuck, dude, tell me about it," Killua said. But he didn't move, because Gon was in his arms. Gon wordlessly agreed, before settling down again, not moving. They had moved so fast the night before, but now Killua ached to move slowly, and stay put as long as possible. 

Killua saw his phone blinking at him from the nearby table, battery dying from the messages he would have gotten by the dozens. 

Killua kissed the top of Gon's head, because he could. He ran his fingers up and down Gon's spine, too, just because he could. Gon pressed his nose into Killua's chest, until it hurt both of them, followed by yelps and chuckles. 

Right now, everything prickled with risk. Killua could barely reach his phone. He tipped it over so the blinking light faced the dirty tabletop.

\----

Killua slammed the door shut behind him. The apartment was dark. He was logy from a huge breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes. He ached, and it felt good. He was sore from the work out last night, from sleeping on a broken sofa with a huge oaf of a man laying on him, from shoveling his car out from 3 feet of soft, white powder that floated like glitter in the early morning sunlight. 

Killua threw the first snowball. Gon tossed him to the ground with pretend rage, hooting while Killua laughed so hard his face and nose hurt. 

He called in sick. Gon didn't have anyone at all to tell, he said. They took all morning deciding where to go, eating as much as they could, and then spending as long as they dared nursing a carafe of coffee as the waitress sent daggers their way straight from her eyes. 

His phone didn't stop buzzing until it actually did die. That was when Killua realized he needed to go home. Without his phone, he didn't even know what time it was.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I don't even have my phone," Gon said, apologizing when Killua explained he needed to go.

"No need to apologize," Killua said, quirking his eyebrow. Gon just rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. 

"I can get breakfast, at least!"

Killua just huffed and pulled out his black card. Gon rolled his eyes while Killua sucked on the complimentary starlight mint that they only got because the previous waitress's shift ended and someone else took her spot. 

It was a perfect winter day on the way back. Too early in the season to last, probably, but it still looked like a whole new world. Killua even let Gon pick the radio station. To his surprise, he had liked every song that played. He was surprised to realize they’d rolled up at the destination.

"So, I'll see you?" Gon said, clicking free his seat belt like his hands were moving through cold molasses. 

Killua wanted to look at Gon, but at the same time, he didn't want to see what exactly he would find there to see. 

"Duh, of course."

Gon smiled. 

After a beat of uncertainty, Gon took Killua's hand, and gave it a small squeeze. Killua leaned all the way across the console, and kissed Gon's neck, and his cheek. His hand wrapped around the back of Gon's neck. Gon sighed right into Killua's ear. 

"See you, then," Gon whispered, warmly, against Killua's cheek. One small kiss. A promise he would make good on later. 

The car door slammed shut, and Killua waited until Gon gave him a big, cheery wave from his door as he opened it. 

Killua’s hands shook at every stop light. He tucked them under his armpits, even though his car’s heater was also on full blast, before he had to grip the bottom of his steering wheel to navigate the wintery roads. He ran in a dorky half speed speedwalk from his car to the apartment building when he finally parked at home. He piled himself through his front door in a teeth chattering huff. 

After Killua landed on his couch, he pulled free the extra charging cord and managed to plug his phone in before kicking his pants off and curling himself up under some fleecy throw Alluka tossed over the back of his couch and went dead and snoring to the world. 

Right on cue, two hours later, Killua jumped up, full bladder the only truly reliable alarm. He answered the call of the wild, and then returned to see almost every color his little phone blinky light could make blinking one after another. 

Blue meant Alluka, red meant work, green meant Gon. All of the lights were blinking. 

Killua expected his heart to seize up with worry as he flipped through the notifications, as they always did when work or Alluka didn’t receive an immediate response from him. But it didn’t. He barely noticed them. He immediately opened Gon’s text thread, instead.

“its so cold!”

“hope you’re staying warm!”

“last night ws so fun”

“i am really happy”

Killua tapped out the reply as if the blush heating his cheeks and neck were actually signs of possession by some ghastly force. 

“Come over”

The response was almost immediate.

“Killua!

“Right now?”

Killua considered how fucking cold it was, but he was still reaching to pull his pants back on to trek back out there. He didn’t have a chance to thumb in his answer before Gon messaged one more time. 

“On my way!”

Killua’s brain caught up to the texting ghost too slowly to disagree. He threw his phone on the couch before he was tempted to check the rest of his message. None of them were voicemails, so how bad could things really be?

There was no food that passed the sniff test in his fridge, so Killua ordered up a pizza with a phone app. He worried he’d have forgotten how to talk, and he got very picky about how much pepperoni and cheese he wanted. (“All of it” was his special instruction, so often, that it was his recommended order.)

Killua couldn’t remember the last time he was home during a weekday that wasn’t a work holiday. He sat back on his couch, and didn’t even think to turn on the TV. He just jumped in surprise when the doorbell rang. There was still some cash in his wallet, so he grabbed that before answering the door. 

“Hey!”

Gon waved at him, and smiled, and Killua nearly dropped his wallet. Gon reached for it too, so it wouldn’t fall. 

“How’d you get here so fast?” Killua asked. 

Gon shrugged. 

“I mean, I ran?” 

Gon started to say “I mean, how else was I going to do it?” but he didn’t get a chance because Killua looped his arms around Gon’s neck and embraced him. 

Together they stumbled back, lips touching only half the time, Killua kicking the door closed behind Gon. Killua nearly slipped, but Gon held him up, giggling into his mouth. 

“You’re so goddamn stupid,” Killua said. He pressed his hands to Gon’s cheeks. “And you’re so cold!” 

Again, Gon tried to respond, but Killua kissed him before he could. The kiss fell together correctly this time, until Killua had to tug Gon's head back by his hair to breathe again.

"Not so cold now," Gon said, softly. Killua couldn't really breathe, even now. Gon leaned in again to kiss him when the doorbell might as well have given Killua a heart attack considering how quickly he fell back and out of Gon's arms, shoving him and rubbing his face. Gon looked unreadably concerned from the corner of Killua's eye as he stomped past to answer it. 

"Oh yeah, fuck, pizza, I forgot," Killua said, right into the face of a shivering teenaged delivery drone, who looked scared, and then ecstatic when they realized they'd been handed an unbroken 20 as a tip. Killua slammed the door and spun around, steaming pizza box in hand. 

"Pizza!" Gon shouted, delighted, and threw his hands up. "See? Totally worth it to come!"

Killua walked the pizza box into Gon's torso. 

"Pizza can wait." 

Gon walked backwards. He looked confused, but not unhappy about it.

"It can?"

Killua bit his lip and nodded. He gave a tip of his head in the direction of the couch. Gon took the hint and skipped over. Killua tossed the pizza box on the counter. Gon sat expectantly, with a palm resting on each knee. Killua took a deep inhale, feeling his chest rise and fall. He walked over to Gon. Gon looked up at him. 

"Killua?"

Killua dropped to his knees. Gon had to tip head down slightly to see him. 

"Killua?" Gon repeated, voice deeper, yet almost tremulous. 

Turns out Gon ran to Killua's apartment in track pants. Killua's forefinger slipped over the black elastic band. Gon yelped softly. 

"What are you doing?"

"You really can't tell?" Killua hoped he was smirking and not grimacing. He ignored his stomach fluttering. 

Gon shook his head. 

"Killua."

The trace of Killua's forefinger lifted the shirt up Gon's belly. Gon sucked in a tight breath. 

"Gon," Killua said. He tipped his head down, eyes fixed on the bare strip of skin he'd revealed. 

"You don't have to do this," Gon whispered. 

Killua hesitated, but only briefly. 

"I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't want to do this."

Fingers twined into Killua's hair. His fingertips were buzzing. His head felt so warm under Gon's hand. 

In his mouth, Killua's name was even warmer. "Killua. Please."

Gon slid himself free as Killua pressed kisses into Gon's hipbone. 

It was like Gon held himself back as Killua worked, which worried Killua so much his heart was about to stop, until Gon gripped Killua's hair so tight he thought it'd rip out. Gon finally cried out, loud, like a cork popping from a bottle. Killua closed his eyes tightly, as if that would freeze the moment in time, and into his memory, for all time. 

When they finished, Gon knelt to wrap Killua up in his arms. 

"Thank you, Killua." 

Killua nodded. 

"My pleasure."

Gon sighed. "Do you want anything?"

Killua nodded again.

"Yeah. That pizza." 

Gon hopped right up, and ran for pizza, a plate, a napkin, and the only non-water pitcher beverage in the fridge, a weeks old diet ginger ale. 

Killua sat back against the couch. He bent his head back over the cushion. Gon rose like the sun in Killua's vision. Gon set the plate in Killua's lap, and the can next to his thigh. Gon crawled on the couch, pincering Killua's torso between his calves. Killua didn't realize that fingers running through his hair, over his scalp, was almost as delicious as the pizza. Which was delicious, because they did notice his special instructions. 

"Don't you want pizza, dude?" Killua asked, through a mouthful. 

"It wasn't actually that long ago we ate that huge breakfast," Gon said, laughing. 

"Whatever, more for me," Killua said. 

The hands moved from Killua's head, until thumbs started to dig into his shoulder blade. 

"Hey," Gon said, leaning over. He reached for the now empty plate on Killua's lap, and set it aside. He massaged with one hand, and tipped Killua's chin up with the other.

"Do you really just want pizza?" Gon said, before kissing Killua's jaw. 

"I really like pizza," Killua said, with a laugh that got stuck in his throat. Gon slid a finger along Killua's Adam's apple. Killua gasped. Gon looped arms around Killua's chest, and hauled him up. 

"I get it! You're really strong, Jesus!" Killua said, finally choking out that laugh. Gon laughed too, and tossed Killua over on the couch beside him. Killua fell back, his legs draped over Gon's lap. Gon ran his hands over Killua's thighs. It was barely afternoon at this point, the sun shining in through the windows above him. Gon's eyes were a gentle trap, with promises of food and shelter if he would just let himself be captured. 

"I'm not sure I'll be as good at it as you," Gon said. His voice croaked like he was actually defensive, and sheepish, all at once. Killua swallowed before speaking.

"I'm good at everything, so that makes sense."

Gon chuckled. He slipped a hand under the hem of Killua's shirt. It tickled but Killua couldn't even move. He curled his lips into his mouth to suck on them, silencing himself. Gon looked disappointed. He moved his other hand to help slip Killua's shirt up his body until his chest and nipples were revealed beneath the bunched up fabric. Gon leaned over, mouth latching to one nipple, one hand slipping around Killua's other nipple with fiendish delicacy, the second slipping down to find Killua's fly. 

Killua jammed his eyes shut. Gon hummed around his nipple. 

"Is this okay?"

"Fuck yeah," Killua gasped. Gon readjusted, curled against Killua's body tighter, moving his mouth down to Killua's belly. 

Last night Killua floated through the sensations like it was a dream. He could only remember it if he approached it sideways, direct memories fleeing like a wild animal on the path ahead of him. 

But here, right now, was no dream. He tasted the pizza grease in his mouth still. Gon fumbled with his fly for so long Killua had to reach down to unlatch his own pants. Gon whispered an abashed thank you into Killua's belly, making him finally moan. Gon moaned back, like Killua had touched him. 

"You don't have to," Killua said. He realized that he was scared. 

"I don't have to, I want to," Gon said. 

Killua jammed the back of his wrist between his teeth. He clamped down on the protruding bone, which protruded extra on that arm from a broken bone he'd received when he was training in 4th grade. 

"Curiousity, I guess, right?" Killua said. He was scared of his own reaction, mostly. Gon couldn't hurt him more than he could hurt himself. 

"I am very curious to see you orgasm, Killua," Gon said, completely missing Killua's point, and making Killua so hard he thought he was going to come in his boxers like he was 14 again. When Gon finally dropped to his knees, and got his mouth over Killua's still covered cock, it was almost enough to reenact every wet dream turned nightmare, but somehow Gon was quicker than even Killua's imagination. 

Not that it wasn't quick, Killua curling over Gon's head, upon which he rested both palms of his hand. Gon didn't even hesitate to swallow him. Killua had to kick his body free then, so he could cover himself again, and pull up his pants. 

"Sorry, did I really do that bad of a job?"

"Shut up, Gon, I came in like 2 seconds."

Killua looked over at Gon's hugely smiling face. "I wasn't gonna say anything, but since you did, I'm pretty sure that's a good sign."

"I guess you can have pizza, then," Killua said, sitting up. Gon's smile literally flipped upside down into a frown. 

"I wasn't gonna get pizza unless I blew you?!"

Killua laughed so hard he coughed himself dizzy. 

\----

Gon spent the rest of the day, and the night, falling asleep on Killua’s plush rug like a big cat. By the next day, Killua’s cough wasn’t just an excuse, and when he actually called the office the receptionist joked that he hoped he wouldn’t catch the cold through the phone lines. 

It turned out, Gon knew how to make chicken soup from scratch. When Killua said it was even a little better than the can, Gon looked like he was going to cry with joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck dudes my last update was in July of 2018. What the fuck have I been doing?  
> Here's to actually writing again in 2019.


	12. Chapter 12

Killua had not gotten any good at escaping, despite how often he'd tried.

He'd tried it with Kurapika. Tried to outrun Fumi's death.

The light blinked on his phone. Beep, beep rang in his head, though he hadn't turned his phone's ringer on in weeks.

That wasn't really what he was trying to escape, though. Fumi's death wasn't even real, yet. Even if he thought he could escape, he was just fooling himself, because he wouldn't yet realize that death changed everywhere, and every time, all at once.

When Gon stepped outside of the apartment for a booze and cold medicine run (for Gon and Killua, respectively) Killua chanced a quick peek.

"I am too angry at you to be worried you're dead."

"You asshole."

"Please don't be dead."

Alluka stopped texting him a full 24 hours ago, so she must actually be pissed off for real. It wasn't like the guilt in Killua's stomach was new, but it lunged and hissed at him until he had heartburn and bile in his throat.

"not dead. bad cold. talk later."

The last time Killua told Alluka he hadn't contacted her because of a bad cold, he didn't have a cold, but he did have another handsome man spending the night.

"I forgot colds left fingers paralyzed. Asshole."

It wasn't like Killua and Alluka hadn't fought before. A lot. But, this didn't even feel like a fight. He wasn't even interested in responding to that last volley. Didn't mean he didn't hang onto his phone like if he missed a notification it would result in the apartment exploding or something, even if the only notifications he got now were deals on pizza delivery or junk email.

"What's wrong?" Gon asked, roughly fifty times. Killua told him any combination of "nothing," "the viruses taking up residence in my veins," or "nothing good on TV." But, sometimes, Gon wasn't just asking, he was really, seriously worried. Killua would start to bite off some smart response before holding his tongue as Gon gazed at him, and placed a hand to his cheek or forehead.

"I hate when people get sick," Gon said. Killua realized he was stupid being annoyed with him for that. Killua thought about grabbing Gon's hand, but Gon was back to watching some cooking show that Killua had been napping through.

Killua hadn't considered that escape could mean staying home with what he realized was a new roommate.

Is that what you'd call this?

Gon slept on his floor. He even slept in Killua's bed, sometimes, at Killua's slurred, exhausted insistence. Otherwise, they spent a long weekend in each other's company, which Killua realized was something he's actually desperately missed.

Escaping loneliness would probably have been described by Grief Group Facilitator June as "healthy progress" but the sharp pebble in Killua's gut annoyed just as it would in the bottom of his shoe.

Probably he was guilty because he couldn't bring himself to tell Alluka what had happened. Even though he still wasn't sure exactly what had happened.

After the first night and morning, he and Gon hadn't exactly. You know. Done anything. Mostly because breathing was torture and every cough risked a lung popping out through his nose.

But, honestly, they didn't have to be doing anything for it to feel gently correct for Gon to be there. Breathing his air, laughing at the TV, shuffling around the house while Killua dozed. That was the days Killua had loved the most with Fumi before everything broke apart.

Killua tried to escape Fumi's death by fucking his hot coworker, and failed. Now, Killua tried to escape Fumi's death by fucking his hot friend, and the results were still up for debate.

Because, there wasn't any more fucking after that day. There wasn't really anything after that day.

Again, Killua was sick, so that made sense.

It also made him feel dizzy and shaky to think about.

Gon smiled at him. Big, bright, friendly and formerly married to a woman he loved so much the wounds from her death still colored his every day.

Killua considered what it would be like to be some straight guy's curious dip into the world of fucking other dudes. He considered it distantly, like he'd imagined what'd it be like to take a vacation to the Himalayas to climb Mount Everest. He'd read about the beauty, and he'd read about all the dead bodies littering the mountain's giant sides.

"Retz loved this show," Gon would punctuate the air after long moments of delicious, warm silence. Killua turned his head to the TV. Jealousy, sure, but then he saw what show it was.

"Really? Fuck, Fumi hated this show. She'd never shut up about it when I turned it on."

Gon wheeled back around. Killua turned away, hiding his grin into the couch behind him.

"You like this show?" Gon asked, amused and astonished.

"Do you like every dumb TV show you watch?" Killua said, eliding answering.

"She watched it a lot when she was on bed rest," Gon reminisced, his voice familiar and gentle, the way it always was when he talked about Retz.

It must have been boring, this weekend, with nothing but TV and lung expelling coughs for company, but Killua was shocked at how content Gon seemed to just lounge around with him.

"You sure you don't have anything you gotta do?"

"I'm sure," Gon said.

Killua didn't believe him, but he wanted it to be true, so he let it be.

It was towards the end of the day on Sunday, when Killua was finally feeling good enough to sit upright and do his own channel surfing, when the phone rang. Killua had made sure his ringer was off so he jumped like he'd heard a gunshot.

"Oh, that's me," Gon said, scrambling for his phone vibrating near the edge of the kitchen counter. He caught it before it fell, and retreated to the bathroom.

That was new. Killua couldn't remember Gon ever taking a call around him, or seeking privacy for anything other than using the bathroom.

It was a long call.

No matter how much Killua wanted to respect Gon's privacy.

(Which was not really any at all.)

(But still.)

He still heard muffled sounds.

He heard a crash. Not a violent crash, more like something getting set back down wrong, and clattering to the floor.

Before he could turn the volume on the TV back up, the bathroom door flew open.

"Hey, I totally forgot about group."

Killua didn't know what to say.

"What?"

"We missed group this week, remember?"

Killua was perfectly well aware. His eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, so?"

Gon actually looked annoyed. That was new.

"I forgot that Sunday is the other group they hold at another location."

Killua still didn't follow.

"There's another group?"

Gon jammed one set of fingers into his hair, then the other. He dragged them down his face. Killua saw the flush, then, the creep of red and irritation that was, to put it lightly, interesting.

"Yeah, and I forgot until just now. And I don't know how to get there."

A cacophony of nonsense cascaded from the TV. Killua turned it off with a pissy grunt. He looked back at Gon. Gon didn't meet his gaze. He was off in lala land somewhere, his phone held in a lazy fist.

"Wait, is the group tonight?"

The reply was as if he was reporting that Killua's house just burned down.

"Yeah. In like 20 minutes."

"So, like, are you saying we need to get going? Or is it too far?"

Gon's forehead wrinkled so much he looked like an angry puppy.

"What do you mean?"

Killua tossed the afghan off his legs. He stood up, and pressed his mouth into his forearm to hide how loud his cough was.

"You need a ride, and you can't drive? What else do I mean? Get ready, we can go now."

The whiplash between angry puppy and exuberant jumping out of the box on Christmas morning puppy made Killua snicker. Killua peeked out his window as he stood to gather his keys and wallet. No snow, clear weather. Sunday evening traffic. There's very few place they couldn't make it to tonight if they left now.

Somehow, it only just occurred to Killua that Gon had borrowed a set of his sweat shirts and pants, seeing now how Gon had changed back. Killua knew his fever had broken long ago, but thinking about that made him feel floaty and warm.

"Ready?" Killua asked. Gon just nodded. He said he would search up a map.

Turns out the other group was just in another church basement in another part of town. Well, probably not actually a basement. This was one of those modern, strip mall adjacent churches, a big building that could have been easily mistaken for a movie theater. Entering the building meant entering a big lobby area, with a welcome desk that had earlier been the center of the Sunday service meet and greet. There was even a few empty boxes of donuts left drying on the counter. Gon seemed to know exactly where to go, not even stopping by the large bulletin board off to the side listing all the community events scheduled for the meeting rooms. 

All they found in the only meeting room that had its lights still on, basically a board room without a VOIP speaker phone in the middle, was June, stacking chairs. 

"Oh, shit," Gon said, heartbroken. June jumped, startled, as would only make sense being set upon by two men after dark in an otherwise empty church. 

"Huh? Who is that?"

Gon stepped through the door, sheepishly waving. Killua hung back, watching. 

"Hi, it's me," Gon said, like that would straighten it out. Killua supposed June didn't have many folks in her orbit like Gon, but her familiarity wasn't just that of the regular acquaintance. 

"I thought you got the notice we moved Sunday group back an hour, Gon," June said, not unkindly but certainly not pleased to be having this conversation. 

"Sorry, I messed up," Gon said. "I shouldn't have missed this week. Is there any way I can..."

"I'm sorry, Gon, but, no, I won't lie to her for you." 

It was at that point June finished her task and finally turned to see Killua peeking at them from the shadows of the doorway. 

"You're here together?" June asked, to Gon, but she was looking at Killua. Or, at least, Gon answered. 

"Yeah, he drove me."

June's feet scuffed against the cheap carpeting as she shuffled over to her purse and coat. 

There were wells of patience being drawn up from deep inside this woman a full foot shorter than Gon, bucket by bucket, which Killua would never have guessed from her typical, brittle performance in each group. 

"You know the rules, Gon. Don't you?"

Killua couldn't see Gon's face anymore, as he turned to speak to June. He watched Gon's shoulders hunch. 

"The rules?"

June gave Gon a smile. And, then, she gave Killua a smile. Her face softened, and he realized she was much older than he'd first though. She held  herself together with more intention and purpose than he'd ever realized. 

"Hello, Killua, good to see you."

Killua realized he hadn't actually spoken to her, just her, before. He lifted his hands out of his pockets, feeling stupid.

"Hi. Uh."

June frowned, softly, and it was the same look June gave the people in her life she truly loved when she was worried. He was sure of it. 

"Sounds like it was a nasty cold, huh?"

"It was," Killua rasped, putting his hands back into his pockets. She spoke to Killua then, and Gon didn't look at either of them.

"I realize that this might not be a rule you're familiar with, Killua, since you joined our group a few weeks after we'd started, but we try and create pretty clear boundaries around what members of the group should and shouldn't do outside of session, in order to facilitate healing."

Killua flushed the same weird, hot way he did on days his ancient health teacher in high school would clear his throat before starting class with the sentence, "Men and women, you know, when they love each other, someday want to, uh, demonstrate that love to each other." 

"Oh, I..." Killua started. 

Gon stopped him.

"We're just friends." 

"Aha," June said, simply. She had finished bundling everything in her arms. Her phone jingled. It sounded so loud Killua had to cringe. She answered it, with a completely new voice.

"Sorry, darling, I'll be right out. Just chatting with some group members. Thanks for coming. See you. Love you."

June excused herself with another soft smile.

"My wife is waiting. See you two on Wednesday, I hope."

Gon turned and waved. Killua said "See you," as he stepped out of her way. 

"The alarm will sound in about 10 minutes, so get out soon unless you enjoy spending the night in a church!" June called out from down the dark hallway. Killua hustled, the thought horrifying him. Gon wasn't far behind. Killua reached the car, got in, and started it. The radio station was talking about football or something, so he tuned it to the only hip hop station his radio got in this city. 

Gon climbed in. Killua rolled out slowly, nodding to himself, along with the music, only slightly off tempo. 

"I think I'm well enough to make it to work tomorrow."

Gon didn't say anything. Killua didn't either. Sounding afraid of what he was saying by not saying anything, Gon spit out, loudly. 

"Oh, that's great news. Glad you feel better."

"Me, too." 

Killua took the exit one sooner than he would have for home. Got him to Gon's place in about five minutes. Gon did something with his face that made Killua laugh, despite himself. 

"Well, have a good night, dude," Killua said, laughter shaking his lips back into their typical smirk. He nodded at Gon.

"Good night," Gon said. It wasn't a whisper, but the way Gon tried to swallow it as soon as it left his mouth made it hard to hear. Gon didn't move. Killua pulled out his phone. He didn't read any more messages. The phone game he turned on played bright, shattering sounds like glass breaking. 

After Gon climbed out, Killua turned the radio up and peeled out of the lot. 

Killua was not sure how he found his way back, the route he took didn't look familiar, but he did. When he entered his apartment, he saw that a bunch of the lights were still on. He went one by one and turned them off, then turned the TV off.

The last room he entered was his bedroom. He turned the light on. It was spotlessly made, the bedspread pulled back and everything. That hadn't happened since a cleaning person had come by some time last year when Fumi was really sick. 

Killua kicked off everything but his boxers. He climbed into bed. It smelled like laundry detergent and cologne. He cried, but just a little, just until one tear slid down his face. Then, he fell asleep. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoy.

It didn't add up for Killua not to have told Alluka everything that happened, but it was his second, major disappointment. 

He'd made an ass of himself, though thankfully the only one seriously hurt was him, this time.

At least he could admit that. He ached like he'd been punched, a number of times. He knew what pain could really feel like now, and this was pain, real pain.

But, at least Killua could escape into work. Maybe he was an okay escape artist after all. Giant coffee cup in one hand, bagel sandwich in another, sunglasses on just so maybe he'd trick the cute receptionist into thinking he took the weekend off to snort coke and gamble in Vegas instead of convalesce and be some beautiful straight boy's bucket list homo fling.

"Feeling better?" Canary asked, eyebrow lifted. "Not dead?"

Killua tipped the glasses back up into his white hair. He met her arched eyebrow for arched eyebrow.

"Dead is a relative term."

Canary snorted.

"Your sister called me, you know."

"Alluka called you?!" Killua screeched, demonstrating the weakened, post-illness rasp at full volume, blowing the whole dumb cover story. "How does she even have your number?"

"The Christmas party last year, I think. Remember? She was your plus one."

That made sense. He was not even close to entirely there, gathering drink tickets even from people who didn't know his entire life was shattering to pieces around him, while Alluka did what she did best, made friends and influenced people.

"Well, eventually I told her I was okay, so all's well."

"All's well that end's well, right?"

Killua set the cup down, spilling it on his hand. It was just whipped cream, so he could clean it by licking it off.

"All's well that ends."

\----

It was Wednesday night when it happened. Finally, she actually called him.

"I'm sorry."

She sounded so plaintive and young. His throat bubbled, like he might cry.

"No, Alluka, no, you shouldn't apologize. I need to apologize."

"No, you don't!"

Alluka shouted at him, which, he couldn't help it, made him laugh. That made her more indignant, until she was grousing with fake consternation and he was holding his ribs.

"Killua, seriously," she finally said, back to normal. "It's actually okay for you to do your own stuff. I don't actually have to be privy to your every waking moment and action."

"Maybe you don't, but I am not yet comfortable with returning that favor, young lady," Killua said. It was banter, but he did realize some real fear was there.

Alluka scoffed. "Too bad. I got a boyfriend when you weren't looking, and everything."

"Whaaaaat?!" Killua crowed. "Really?! Alluka!"

Alluka just snorted delightedly.

"Tell me everything!"

"I absolutely will not, brother," Alluka said. "But he's really good, you'd like him."

The warmth in Alluka's voice warmed Killua's heart in turn. No one loved harder than Alluka. He was happy, but the feeling was slightly caustic. A certain indigestion that he'd grown all too familiar with this year.

"Be careful, Alluka," Killua said, hating how serious he sounded.

She never got angry, but this made Alluka actually angry.

"You're not my dad," Alluka said. Something she'd said to him before, at varying degrees of sincerity. It always dug at Killua right in his ribs. "So stop acting like it all the time."

"I don't do it all the time," Killua said, limply. Alluka scoffed with as much disbelief as Killua expressed.

"Don't turn into dad and Illumi."

Dumbstruck, Killua realized he had heard that exact phrase sometime in the past, but he couldn't remember when or why. It must have been Fumi.

"I'm not..." Killua started. Alluka cut him off.

"The world isn't always a bad place."

Killua sighed. Warmth rose through his breastbone. His brother Illumi had not existed outside of memory since Fumi's funeral.

He'd always been scared. That's why they left.

"We had to get out, though," Killua said, quietly. "I won't apologize for being scared."

Alluka spoke quickly, voice a rush of apologies. "No, Killua, no, you don't understand. You guys are why I know it's true."

Meaning him and Fumi.

"Alluka, you were..."

Alluka just kept bowling past him.

"You two showed me the world could be good. You two showed me what love looked like. I want what you had."

Killua's heart danced in his throat. What they had was as painful to think about as Fumi's body, lying prone and empty on their bed, waiting for the funeral home people to pick her up, was to imagine. But, he did it now, anyway.

"Alluka, you're the only reason we got out, you know. We did it for you."

"Killua, we all did it for each other."

"Yeah, maybe."

"We can do it for ourselves, too."

Killua considered the half-truth there. Alluka needed to do whatever Alluka needed to do. He was about to say that, but, again, she beat him there.

"You are still allowed to be happy even though she's gone. She would want that."

A headache, and his fingers itched for a cigarette. He lied that he needed to get going.

"I love you, Alluka."

"Love you too, big brother."

The exhaustion roared through him like a tidal wave, with a pause at the crest of the wave before Alluka piped up again.

"So, what about the quarterback farm boy, Gon West or whatever?"

"Gone where?" Killua said, jangled and dizzy, ready to verbally bounce, or fake terrible cell signal.

"That nice, handsome guy you were dating, of course," Alluka continued, sweet as pie. Killua instantly rolled his eyes.

"Thought we didn't need to know every detail of each other's lives?" Killua bluffed.

"That means that either he dumped you, or he's literally under you as we speak."

Shocked into a blushing stammer, Killua realized he had been saved by the bell, or at least, the artificial bell sounds of his ringtone.

"Sorry, Alluka, I plead the fifth, and that's my lawyer on the other line."

"You're just lucky I'm about to go make out something fierce, or else I'd march over and see for myself what's up with you."

Killua groaned.

"Who are you, and what did you do with my sweet baby sister?"

"Love you, you albino string bean."

\----

At first, he knew the calls came from Gon. Gon was still in his phone, after all. The texts, too. Killua was incredibly proud of himself for not reading them. In a moment of self-aggrandized clarity, sun shining and green tea in his hand ("No sweetener," Killua said proudly, before the barista even thought to ask.) Killua went in and removed Gon from his contacts. 

As if he hadn't memorized the phone number. 

The last text he remembered getting was "later." 

\----

They had actually been working on a case together, so the deja vu didn't smack Killua in the face until he sat in front of Kurapika's big, empty desk. Kurapika would saunter in after whatever final, real meeting for the evening. Sometimes they'd leave together for a quick dinner before stumbling to Kurapika's apartment. Sometimes they'd just fuck right here, in Kurapika's office.

Killua sat there, waiting, tapping his fingers nervously against his knee. The slip backwards through time flooded him with shame until his cheek and necks burned.

"I know it's late," Kurapika said, behind him, letting himself into the office, closing the door gently, as ever, and hanging up his jacket. "But, I appreciate your time and patience."

Killua craned his head around to track Kurapika's entrance. He grew a mean little grin.

"You know you aren't actually my boss, right? And can't actually fire me?"

Kurapika did not return the grin as he sat down, face blank. 

"I absolutely could fire you, Killua. I might have to if you are going to make such a critically flawed analysis like that."

It could have been a threat, but that wasn't what made Killua's stomach drop like a leaden weight in the water. 

Kurapika looked sad. Tired, sad, with crows feet by his eyes, and deep circles ground into place by exhaustion. 

"I learned something more about that notice your friend's aunt received that you asked me to look into."

Killua didn't know if he was more surprised by the fact that Kurapika did a minute's extra work for something so trivial, or the bitchy intonation he used on the word "friend."

"What for?"

Kurapika let himself smile a touch at that. 

"Procrastination."

Killua couldn't help but giggle. 

"You're the only person I know who does light research and fact finding to relax." 

"You haven't met enough people," Kurapika replied, dryly. He continued, reaching over to shuffle some papers around on his desk. "I am guessing that perhaps you have not?"

"I have not what?"

"Looked into the matter more?"

Killua saw the letterhead, and the certified copy stamp. Kurapika set the paper down gently. Kurapika watched Killua pick it up with a furrowed brow that only made him look sadder and more tired. The letterhead was from the department of transportation confirming the agreed upon appraisal rate for the seizure of a piece of land in a nearby rural downtown. Gon's hometown. 

"I have to tell him," Killua finally said, with a croak. Dizzy nerves swirled inside him already at the thought, but even so. 

"Wait, Killua," Kurapika said, reaching back over. His long finger pointed to the upper left corner. "Did you note the date?" 

It was months ago. Before Killua had even joined the group, or met Gon.

"What the fuck?" Killua muttered. Kurapika laughed. It was a weirdly warm laugh.

"I thought the same thing. Maybe Gon just isn't good with dates?"

Killua's hands shook. It made the paper quiver, so he set it down. 

It still didn't make sense.

"Why are you telling me this?" Killua asked, with clipped syllables. 

Kurapika dropped his smile. He tilted his head. His voice went condescending, like usual.

"Would you prefer to not know that you were being taken for a ride?" They silently considered each other for a minute, eyes locked, before Kurapika traded Killua for his own cruel smile. "Unless going for a ride was the only point..."

"Fuck you!" Killua snapped. Kurapika's mouth snapped shut. Killua leaned back in his chair, so far he tipped it back on its back legs, almost falling, before falling forward with a loud bang. "Are you done gloating?"

Kurapika pursed his lips. "It doesn't feel good to be someone's sexy little experiment, does it?"

It hit him, then, the anger and the sadness, as Kurapika put exactly what had happened so cruelly into words. Killua wanted to shout, or throw a punch, but instead he looked at the man across from him, and realized he was just a man. Like him. 

"How did you know?" Killua asked. In his own ears, he sounded pitiful and defeated. 

Kurapika crossed his arms, and sighed. 

"This transparent of a ruse just to get more of your attention? Excuses to be alone together, or talk, that aren't suspicious?"

Like late nights working at the office. Like long calls "about work" that required him to leave the room "for attorney client protection." Killua threw back his head and sighed, feeling all of the breath leave his lungs, until he was empty, empty. 

"Yeah, you're right," Killua said, head flipping back. "You're super right, actually." 

Kurapika's voice was soft. "I'm sorry to hear that."

It was worse that Kurapika didn't sound angry. He did sound genuinely sorry. 

"You sure it didn't feel at least a little satisfying when you figured it all out?" Killua snapped. 

"Do you really think I would be happy if you were hurt?" Kurapika asked. It was a gut punch that made Killua wish he could slip away into a deep and dark hole.

Kurapika held him as he fought back sobs when Fumi's prognosis turned from dismal to hopeless. He offered him space, warmth, time and kindness. Killua knew it, because he wouldn't have needed to escape from something as benign as a heartless fuck. 

It bubbled out of his mouth like a gastric accident.

"I'm sorry," Killua said. "I'm really sorry."

The large office chair Kurapika had been sitting in sounded like it had nearly been tossed backwards. Two arms that had once surprised him with how much strength they held in such thin frames wrapped Killua up tight. 

"I know," Kurapika said, mouth pressed into Killua's hair. It was the most intimate moment they'd ever shared, really, even though they were as far away from being a couple as he could imagine. 

"I just used you," Killua said, his words a vibrato of shame. "I used you, and I betrayed her. I don't deserve to be the one who survived. It should have been me." 

The arms loosened. Kurapika knelt low, and Killua took the opportunity to rub some of the tears and snot from his disgusting face. With no gentleness, Kurapika gripped Killua's shoulders. Kurapika finally looked mad. 

"Yeah, well, it wasn't. She's dead, and you're not, and you discredit her if you sit here thinking you deserve a peaceful rest while she carries the grief." 

A distant, pre-sleep story Kurapika had told him once, when they were well fucked and barely able to keep their eyes open. How his entire family had died, in a tragic, horrifying confluence of illness and accident. How he was the only one left. Killua swallowed. Kurapika exhaled, face softening, but grip tightening. 

"You're alive, and that means you have to live. That means you have to do what you want, what you actually want, for once. Not just what you think you should do." 

"I don't deserve that," Killua said, weakly. He wanted to close his eyes, but that forced more tears out. 

"They didn't deserve to die," Kurapika. "No one deserves anything. We just get to deal with what life hands us. If we get to spend more time at peace than miserable, that's just shoving a thumb in life's eye."

A tiny laugh echoed between them. 

"You've changed," Killua said, finally beginning to calm. "What made you such a new age-y type, all of a sudden?"

He was seeing every side of Kurapika that he'd convinced himself didn't exist. Kurapika looked shy.

"I met someone."

Real, genuine joy made Killua smile at his now sheepish, boyish, lovestruck boss and ex. It all made sense.

"He must be a good someone."

"He is. The best."

Killua gave Kurapika a hug. He wanted a hug. Kurapika seemed relieved to return the favor. 

"I know what I want to do," Killua finally said. Kurapika leaned back, and lifted an eyebrow. "I want to ask that stupid, handsome asshole what the fuck his problem is. That's probably bad, huh?"

Kurapika shrugged. 

"I feel a lot better after seeing you bawl like a baby, just now."

Something snapped into place between them. Killua's shoulders relaxed as the imagined weight lifted. 

"I'd settle for a half-hearted non-apology from the dude at this point," Killua said. It hurt, but it weirdly felt okay to realize how much it hurt. Kurapika's face returned to stoic, icy and nearly unreadable as he stood up again.

"I found something else I think you should see." 

\----

It had been a full 12 hours since Gon had tried to contact Killua again. He hadn't stopped trying since the last day they'd seen each other. Killua couldn't square the circle of Gon's motives. He was too scared. 

He listened to only the very latest voice mail as he started up his car, hands fumbling in his pockets for gloves in the cold. 

"Hey, Killua," Gon slurred. "I guess I'm drunk now. Sorry. I need to cool it, but I know I fucked up, and I just need to talk to you. Please. I promise I will leave you alone after that, but I just..."

Killua heard a clatter, and then the call disconnected. He started by swinging by Gon’s rat trap of an apartment. He pounded on the door, yelled, and ignored the unhappy hissing to shush he got from a stooped neighbor man who shuffled by with his tiny, be-sweatered dog. 

Unsurprisingly, Gon was not here. 

There was really only one other place to go. It got dark so fast these days. It wasn't really that late, but it could have been midnight for all Killua knew from the street lights on and dark skies above. The only thing that could make it all more ominous was an unseasonable thunder and lightning storm. 

It hadn't snowed in a few days. Killua recognized the boot prints leading to the gym's door. He forgot to slam his car door shut behind, but had to remember the gym door because it was so fucking cold. 

All the lights were on. He sprinted to the back, through the hallway eerily lit from both ends. The room at the back with the fairy lights and the couch. 

A long lump lay prone on the couch. Killua sucked in air. He creeped closer, heart pounding. The silence shattered when Gon rolled over, letting out a long, ragged snore. 

Killua rolled his eyes and smiled, a little. Then the odor of booze and vomit hit him. He crossed the space between them. He put a chilled hand to Gon's hot face.

"You're not okay, are you?" Killua whispered. He didn't know if he wanted to hear an answer. Gon's eyes slid open, slowly. They looked filmy with a distant gaze. It took a beat too long for him to recognize Killua's face. 

When Gon did, his smile was wide and perfect. 

"Killua! It's you! Not a dream."

"Oh my god," Killua hissed. The smell of sickness and drunkenness was everywhere. As quickly as Gon's eyes had opened, he groaned, and they slid close again. Killua knelt down, tipping over one of the empty bottles. He grabbed one of Gon's hands as the other pulled his phone from his pocket. He didn't know exactly what to say when he called 911.

"I...my friend, he's...not okay."

When he described the smell and the scene, the distressingly laconic 911 operator got serious. She asked Killua to stay on the phone. He held Gon's hand until the men in the yellow jackets came barreling in. They asked if he wanted to ride in the ambulance. He just said, "My car." They shrugged, named the closest hospital, and took Gon away, oxygen mask pressed to his face. 

Killua looked at his phone again. He did have her number.

"Excuse me, is this Mito Freecs?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoy ahoy.


End file.
